


The Laundromat

by Twilighthawke



Series: Apartment AU [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Apartment AU, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Shipping trash, domestic as hell, ex-con feelings, i dont THINK the violence gets violent enough but please message me if you think otherwise, i'll change the tags faster than you can say triggered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilighthawke/pseuds/Twilighthawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen finds himself indecent in the laundry room when a pretty girl walks in. This is not a porno I swear</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 'meet ugly' as opposed to a 'meet cute', prompt.
> 
> 'i'm in my underpants in a laundromat waiting for my clothes to get washed and your clothes are in the machine next to mine and i noticed that when you put your clothes in they were all covered in blood what the fuck' au

This was embarrassing. Worse than that, it was humiliating. Cullen stood, in his boxer briefs, waiting for the spin cycle to end so he could put his clothes in a dryer. This was not what he thought he would be doing when he woke up that morning. It had been a regular day.

Everything that could possibly go wrong, had, the minute he stepped out of his front door. He realized that he had left his keys in his room, and that he didn’t have a spare. He didn’t have time to worry about that because he was late for the bus. Surprise, he missed the bus.

He called no less than three people trying to get a ride into the city so that he wouldn’t have to wait for the next bus. Leliana had finally showed up but she was not the sort of person you wanted to owe a favor to. He had to stay late to make up for being late. When he went to get a coffee, the handle came off of the pot and had dumped, thankfully lukewarm coffee, all down his front.

It was around Nine thirty PM and there he was, in his apartment complex’s laundry room. His brooding was interrupted when he heard the door slam. He groaned a little but didn’t move. There really wasn’t anywhere a man his size could hide. With the kind of luck he was having, he half expected a whole troop of nuns to round the corner and get an eyeful.

No, what came around the corner and into the laundry room was worse. It was an attractive red-headed girl with a laundry basket under one arm and a box of detergent in the other. She was a little taken aback when she spotted him, leaning against the row of dryers against the far wall. He smiled and waved, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be standing there in nothing but his skivvies.

She grinned at him, and walked towards him, stopping at the washer right next to his. She studiously ignored him as she opened the door and started loading clothes into the washer. Cullen took the opportunity to look at her ass; she was wearing capri pajama pants that had “Hot” written on the butt in big, sparkly letters. She noticed and he snapped his eyes forward, blushing. She just grinned again and continued loading clothes.

…Clothes that Cullen suddenly realized were covered in blood? Well, covered was an exaggeration. They were speckled really. That didn’t change the fact that it was blood, and it didn’t look old. Several observations flicked through his head in quick succession. Well she is a girl, was his first embarrassed thought, but the blood hadn’t been limited to leggings or jeans had they?

“Bad day?” She finally spoke and he jumped. She grinned that grin again, the one that made her dimples stand out. Cullen really hoped she wasn’t a murderer because she was really cute.

“You have no idea,” He sputtered a laugh. She leaned against the washers and crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “What about you?” Cullen found himself saying, “A little late to be doing laundry.” She rolled her eyes.

“I know,” she snorted and didn’t elaborate. She obviously lived in the building. She was barefoot and was wearing only an oversized T-shirt for a band he didn’t recognize, and the “hot” capri pajama pants.

Cullen wondered if there was a polite way to ask why someone had blood on their clothes. He continued to think of innocent reasons for a person to have blood on their clothes. There weren’t a lot of them. Any, if Cullen was being honest. He burned with curiosity.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Cullen tried for a casual tone. “Your clothes had something dark on them, painting accident?”

“Nope,” She smirked and looked him dead in the eyes. “That was blood.” She said it so casually that Cullen almost nodded, understanding. His brain finally registered what she had said and he felt his eyes get wide.

There really didn’t seem to be anything to say in response to a statement like that. Except ‘why do you have blood on your clothes?’ but Cullen didn’t think that line of questioning would get him any further than the previous one had.

“I live on the fourth floor,” She spoke up unexpectedly. “Didn’t expect to see anyone on my way down here, or I would have put on actual clothes.” She grinned, perhaps a little bashfully this time.

“I live on the third floor,” Cullen found himself saying. “And I wasn’t expecting to get a pot of coffee dumped on me, or I would have worn a rain coat.” She laughed. He was flirting with a possible murderer in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“And running up for a change was totally out of the question.” She said it as a statement, but there was a question in her tone.

“I’ll tell you why I didn’t change first,” Cullen smirked. “If _you_ tell me why you have blood on your clothes.” Still flirting with the probable murderer. She laughed.

“The roommate is a cop,” She explained. “Cassandra pulled some stiches, of course she had to be wearing my cardigan at the time.” She shook her head and shrugged at the same time.

Cullen had actually met Cassandra once or twice, they worked in the same building. He had no idea they _lived_ in the same building too. The red-head, who was blessedly not a murderer after all, raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Oh,” Cullen realized it was his turn. “I left my keys inside my apartment this morning. I don’t have a spare.” He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling a bit sheepish. His washer dinged and Cullen stood from his leaning position to retrieve his clothes. They were _so_ ruined, the shirt at least was a lost cause. He sighed and moved to the dryers.

“I can get you back into your apartment,” the red-head offered. Cullen looked at her suspiciously.

“What, you have a skeleton key to the whole building?” he was mostly joking. Mostly. There was something about this girl that had him wondering. What exactly did she do except live with a cop and do laundry at odd hours? She grinned that dimpled grin once more.

“No, better.” The smile she gave him then was devious. “Just trust me, Calvin Klein.” Cullen’s brow furrowed in confusion. Calvin Klein? He suddenly remembered his state of undress and blushed all the way to his hairline. She giggle-snorted and covered her mouth with her hand, a poor attempt to stifle the sound.

“My name is Erica,” She offered her hand for him to shake, which he did, still blushing.

“Cullen,” Cullen replied, shaking the proffered hand, not meeting her gaze.

The silence got long. Cullen searched his brain for something, anything to say. He had, mercifully, stopped blushing and was able to look at Erica again. His eyes fell on the band shirt she wore. Before he could ask himself if she was wearing a bra or not he blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

“Who are the Mountain Goats?” It was the band name on the T-shirt and she looked down, like she had forgotten she was wearing it.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t actually know.” She looked back at him, pondering. “It’s Cassandra’s boyfriend’s actually. I think he bought it online and it turned out to be way too big. No way Varric thought this would fit him.” Cullen barked a laugh. Indeed, the shirt would not have fit even Cullen. Cullen was a rather large man too.

Her washer dinged and she moved to take the clothes out. She gave a relieved sigh. Apparently the blood had not set. She moved to put her clothes in the dryer next to his. There were several open so she didn’t really need to. Come to think of it, she didn’t need to put her clothes in the washer next to his either. Subtle.

“So you don’t listen to the Mountain Goats, what kind of music _do_ you listen to then?” Erica leaned he elbows on the dryer in front of her.

They chatted idly until her dyer dinged, Cullen having waited until her load was done before taking his out. He carried her laundry basket for her as they climbed the stairs. She had rolled her eyes, but had needed very little persuading to accept his chivalry. She followed him to his door before she pulled two hair pins from her hair and set to work on the lock on his door. Her auburn hair fell in her faces and she huffed it out of the way.

“ _You_ live with a _cop_?” Cullen teased, nonetheless surprised at this mysterious woman. She looked over her shoulder at him as the lock clicked open. She smirked in response. She hopped to her feet and held out her arms for her laundry basket. He reluctantly handed it over. He found himself not wanting her to leave. She was a bundle of questions topped with red hair, and accompanied by the cutest little overbite he had ever seen.

“I’ll see you around Cullen,” She said after a minute of both of them standing there. Cullen realized he had been staring.

“Right, yes it’s getting late.” He fumbled. “Thank you, for getting me into my apartment.” He continued. He was babbling, standing in his doorway, still in his briefs because he hadn’t thought to pull on his clothes when he had still been in the laundry room.

“No problem,” She turned to go but paused and turned back. “You know, you live right below my apartment.” She stated without preamble. He slowly realized that was her way of exchanging room numbers.

“Oh,” He managed lamely, and through his blush. She smiled at him, those dimples were going to be the death of him.

“G’night neighbor.” She called cheerfully over her shoulder as she made for the stairs. Cullen watched her go for a moment longer than was strictly necessary before ducking back into his apartment. He would have to think of a good reason to talk to Cassandra tomorrow.


	2. Never Ever Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica gets back to her apartment to see how her roommate is doing. Cassandra's boyfriend has popped in for a visit, and Erica tells him a story he'll never believe.

Erica let the door bang behind her as she entered her apartment. Her arms were full of laundry basket, so it was a necessity. She winced any way because Cassandra would give her that scowl, the one that made criminals quake in fear, blood loss or no.

“Cass! I’m back,” she called and dropped her keys in the ceramic dish by the door, and made her way into the living room. Frowning to find it empty. She had left Cassandra on the couch, with strict instructions not to move.

“In here,” Cassandra’s voice came from the kitchen. Erica dropped the laundry basket on the sofa and headed towards the sound of her roommate’s voice. She pursed her lips, ready to lecture Cassandra on proper bleeding edict when she pushed open the door. And quickly changed her mind when she saw Varric sitting on the kitchen table, next to a seated Cassandra.

“Varric!” Erica was genuinely happy to see the short man. “What are you doing up this late? Did Cassandra call you?” She asked and Cassandra pulled a face.

“I know very well you texted him before you left with the laundry,” she glared at Erica without malice. Cassandra was obviously happy for the company, and if there was ever a man to take your mind off of your pain, that man was Varric.

Erica wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but she had been a little freaked out when she and Cassandra were watching TV and laughing; when Cassandra let out a strangled sort of noise and blood had started to seep through her cardigan. She had looked so pale when Erica left, at Cassandra’s insistence, that she had called her roommate’s boyfriend to come up and sit with her. Varric lived on the third floor, two doors down from Cullen as it turned out. Speaking of which…

“You’ll never guess what happened in the laundry room Varric,” she told him slyly as she turned to the cupboard. She got out a mug and the tea, bustling around until his curiosity got the better of him.

“Alright, Dimples,” Varric sighed in defeat and Erica inwardly cheered. Varric was the one who taught her that trick too. “What happened in the laundry room?” Varric said in a mock exaggerated tone. Like he wasn’t going to hang on her every word.

“Strangest thing,” her face took on a ponderous expression, as she turned back to him, kettle being put on to boil. “I walk on into the room and I look up and what do I see?” She got out another mug for Cassandra.

“Maker, Erica, just get on with it,” It was Cassandra who finally lost patience with the silence. Erica grinned and pulled the honey out of its cubby.

“I saw a tall drink of water, with arms like posts, and the cutest curly hair you’ve ever seen.” Erica described Cullen with a dreamy sigh and Varric laughed.

“Pray tell,” Varric leaned forward, ever the eager audience. “What was this Adonis doing in the laundry at this time of night? Not washing blood out of _his_ clothes I hope.” Erica laughed and poured the tea.

“Thankfully not, he was totally checking out my ass though,” she quirked an eyebrow at Cassandra who rolled her eyes. “Oh Cassie he had the most beautiful brown eyes you’ve ever seen.” Erica said breathily; _that_ wasn’t for show. She couldn’t have torn her eyes away from those golden eyes if she had tried. She definitely didn’t try very hard. Varric made a rude noise.

“Present company excluding?” he demanded but he was still grinning. Cassandra gave him a shove but her eyes were that kind of soft that only happened when she looked at her favorite author.

“Sure,” Erica handed a mug to Cassandra and wrapped her hands around her own. Varric didn’t drink tea. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Varric made an exaggerated hurt noise and Cassandra laughed. “Do you wanna hear the rest or not?” Erica teased as she took a sip of tea. Green tea, chamomile--they didn’t need to be up all night.

“There’s more to this mysterious stranger?” Varric asked. Erica just wiggled her eyebrows.

“Well,” she drawled and Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “There was the tiny detail that he was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, but other than that…” Erica trailed off as she took another sip of her tea. Cassandra nearly spit out her tea and looked at Erica with wide eyes. Varric was laughing his ass off though.

“Bullshit!” he wheezed in between guffaws. “I call bullshit, Dimples!” Cassandra smacked his leg. Shushing him.

“People are trying to sleep Varric,” she glared at him and he kissed her for an apology. She was still glaring but with less force.

“I promise I’m not making this up,” Erica insisted. “I couldn’t make this shit up,” even Varric, who wrote _one_ trashy romance novel but was otherwise a reputable writer, couldn’t have made this up.

“Alright Dimples,” Varric relented eventually. “What was Curly doing down in the laundry room at nine o clock at night, in nothing but his skivvies?”

“Well h- Curly?” Erica started but then stopped herself.

“You mentioned he had curly hair,” Varric shrugged.

“I also mentioned his rippling pectorals right?” Erica barked a laugh.

“You didn’t, but I’m adding it to the rather long list of flattering features you’ve attributed to this naked man.” Varric raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Erica narrowed her eyes, still grinning.

She told them about how cowed he looked, like a man who had the worst day of his life and was too spent to care whether or not a hottie like her saw him in his underwear. She also told them about when he had realized that the clothes she was putting into the dryer were a little covered in blood.

“That always goes over so well,” Cassandra snorted attractively. Cassandra’s line of work meant that she was often washing blood stained clothing. On _fun_ days the cops were called, Cassandra got to pick a fight with whoever they sent.

“To his credit, he only looked a little uncertain. He asked if I had been in a painting accident or something.” Varric knew where she was going.

“And you calmly explained that it was the blood of your latest victim?” He guessed, Erica shook her head.

“Maker no,” she said. “He was too cute to drive away screaming into the night. I only told him that it was blood and didn’t elaborate.” Varric’s turn to snort derisively.

“Because that’s so much better,” he remarked sarcastically.

“Are you going to keep interrupting? Or will you let me get on with my story?” Erica chastised and he threw up his hands in surrender. She got all the way to the part where she offered to open Cullen’s door for him when it was Cassandra’s turn to interrupt her.

“You did what?!” She exclaimed, her accent becoming more pronounced as it always did when she was angry. Erica winced.

“Er…” she avoided Cassandra’s steely gaze by sipping her rapidly cooling tea. “Yeah, he seemed cool with it though, he took me up on my offer.” She offered hopefully. Cassandra just narrowed her eyes and Erica relaxed a little. She knew it was risky to let people know about her particular talent set. But there was a very compelling gentleman in distress, what was she supposed to do?

“I barely know my immediate neighbors,” Varric shrugged when Erica told him that Cullen lived two doors over from him. “Why waste my incredibly valuable time getting to know the whole floor?” Cassandra let out another rude noise and he brushed his knuckled along her jawline. She tried not to let it show, but she leaned into the touch. He always seemed to know exactly how to put Cassandra at ease. Erica, she was a little more than envious of their relationship.

“So I bust open the door and he went inside,” she finished anti-climatically and Varric looked at her skeptically. She didn’t particularly want to mention how they had both stood there, trying to find something to say to each other. “I may have also told him that I lived in the apartment right above him…” she trailed off and Varric wiggled his eyebrows knowingly.

“I see,” Varric nodded smugly. “Waiting for a booty call?” He asked and Erica made to throw the box of tea at him. He threw up his hands in defense. “That’s quite the story Dimples,” Varric admitted once the threat of tea assault was over.

“You still don’t believe me,” Erica sighed dramatically. “Oh well, I’ll just keep the memory of Cullen close to my chest forever.” She pressed a hand to said heart dramatically. Cassandra had finished her tea or she would have spat it out.

“Cullen?!” Cassandra sputtered. “Cullen Rutherford?” Cassandra looked incredulous. Erica was surprised at the outburst. Cassandra was a very levelheaded person in general.

“Uh, we weren’t exactly on a last name basis…” Erica said.

“Tall, blond man, with brown eyes,” Cassandra listed off. “And a scar over his lip?” Cassandra raised an eyebrow as Erica’s eyes widened. Erica had completely neglected to mention his entirely sexy facial scar. Her mind’s eye was on other features. Erica had a horrible thought.

“You haven’t _arrested_ him have you?” She held her breath. Cassandra shook her head and Erica breathed again.

“Maker, no nothing like that.” She said. “He works at the precinct with me. Transferred over from Kirkwall recently.” Erica’s eyes widened again. He was a cop?

“Maker that’s _worse_!” Erica sank into the chair across from Cassandra and put her face in her hands. What if he found out who she was? What she did? She moaned. “I can never ever see him again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is LONG. But I liked writing for Cassandra and Varric. Questions? Speculations? Glowing words of praise? Comments welcome as always.


	3. Thinking of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is early to work to try an talk to Cassandra. Erica finds it hard to concentrate.

Cullen sat at his desk and pretended to work. He had one eye on the door, and one foot tapping on the floor. He had things to do, there were always reports to be filed, criminals to apprehend, donuts to eat. He had neglected to tell anyone about the coffee pot so there had been a flurry of activity a few minutes ago for someone to get a new one. Cullen didn’t really notice, he was already wound up; he didn’t need any caffeine.

He was early. Cullen was a prompt person and was never _late,_ but he was early even by his standards. He wanted to get there before Cassandra did. He had only a vague idea of what he would say when she got there. He might mention her injury. It was no secret Cassandra had taken a knife to the abdomen in the line of duty. Some white boy with a knife who didn’t know when to cut his losses. Needless to say the kid probably wouldn’t even be able to look at a knife without crying.

Cullen worried briefly that Cassandra might not even show up to work. She had technically been ordered three weeks of rest. It had been a week and Cassandra had shown up in the office. There was work to be done, and Cassandra was never one for sitting at home watching TV anyway. It was a work ethic she and Cullen shared. He respected her all the more for it. Not just because her cheekbones alone could cut a man to ribbons in four seconds, and a glare that could do it in two.

Cullen was smirking at that thought when the woman herself appeared. He almost missed her he was so intent on the door itself. She walked briskly past his desk and he scrambled up to follow her.

“Pentaghast,” he said her last name and she turned, one eyebrow raised. Something like recognition crossed her face. That was a good sign, it would make making conversation easier. “Heard you took a knife to the ribcage,” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he was trying to break himself of.

“It was nothing,” she brushed it off. No actually it was not nothing, Cullen had seen the injury report. The knife missed her lung by mere inches.

“’You should see the other guy’, right?” Cullen joked and was surprised when he caught the faintest hint of a smile cross her face. The woman had a sense of humor, huh.

“Was there something you needed, Rutherford?” She asked, not unkindly, but professionally. Cullen’s stomach still fell. He hadn’t expected to get this far and he had no contingency plan.

“Uh,” he faltered. “I ran into your roommate last night.” Cullen found himself saying to his own horror. Cassandra must be a nightmare to play Wicked Grace against because her face betrayed nothing.

“Ah,” it was her voice that gave her away, it held just a twinge of amusement in it. “She mentioned talking to someone in the laundry room, yes.” Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Oh, she was toying with him now. Why the hell had he brought it up? The whole precinct would know by lunchtime. Cullen felt his ears go red.

“You won’t…” Cullen took a step closer and lowered his voice. “You’re not going to tell anyone about that are you?” He asked fervently and her eyes softened into a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“I was not planning on running my mouth, Rutherford,” she patted him on the shoulder. “Besides,” she straightened. “I’m not entirely sure she wasn’t making it up.” Cassandra’s eyes gave him the once over and he blushed again. She turned to go and Cullen nearly grabbed her arm.

“What _did_ she say?” Cullen tried for a casual tone, he was not sure he succeeded. “Your roommate, I mean.” Cassandra turned back towards him slowly, that same eyebrow raised. She didn’t say anything for a minute. If Cullen had known her any better, he might have ventured that she was waging an internal battle with herself about what to say. Somebody won because she finally spoke.

“She spun quite the tale for me and my- for Varric,” she smoothly didn’t call her boyfriend her boyfriend… for some reason. “She did go on about your eyes.” She confessed. Cullen blushed to the roots of his hair. She had had time to look at his eyes when… all the rest of him was on display?

“She did?” Was all Cullen said in return and Cassandra nodded sternly.

“I don’t say things that aren’t true. As a rule,” she nodded her farewell and Cullen was almost sure he made an answering gesture. He was a little distracted though. He wondered just what Erica had said about him. His eyes yes, but Cassandra had known the whole story, he was sure. It was the look in her eye.

He allowed himself a jaunty little spring in his step when he walked the few feet to his desk. She had been chatting with her gal pals about him. He mentally kicked himself for that thought. If Cassandra was a ‘gal pal’ Cullen was the queen of Antiva. Cullen felt rather silly in general. He’d just thought the words ‘gal pal’ twice in as many minutes. But still.

She had been thinking about him.

\--

She had been thinking about him all day. She was driving herself to distraction. She had her laptop open and in front of her, Varric’s latest novel waiting to be edited. And she just couldn’t focus on the words she was supposed to be reading. Technically she was a temp or apprentice or helper person Varric’s publisher had hired. It was decent work and Erica was grateful to Varric for the opportunity.

Erica had a very limited skill set now that she was going straight. Nobody wanted to hire a felon to be a locksmith. She taught a very low-key parkour class at the community center on Sundays though. That was fun, but less than lucrative.

 Right now though, Erica was still thinking about Officer Rutherford. She had spent most of last night, and the majority of this morning grilling her roommate on what she knew about the new recruit. She didn’t know much.

He was newly transferred from Kirkwall, a department that had been completely dismantled when a terrorist organization had hit the building. People were killed. Erica remembered seeing it on the news, and she remembered the scar on his upper lip.

Presently, she found herself touching her own lips, deep in thought. She growled and got up off the couch. She stalked to the fridge, which she stared into for a few minutes before stalking back to the couch, not having taken anything out.

She found she had two messages on her phone from Cassandra. She unlocked the screen and read the first message.

“C asked about you”

Erica clutched the phone with both hands and reread the message. There was no doubt in her mind who ‘C’ was referring to; Cullen. He had approached Cassandra? At work? She supposed if Cassandra had known who Cullen was it was possible that he had known Cassandra. Erica was giggling a little, but then she read the second message.

“Told him you had spoken of him”

The smile dropped instantly. What on earth had possessed Cassandra to do such a thing? She couldn’t let Cullen find out what Erica was; a criminal. She had been a thief, a damn good one. She was reformed, had been for years, but still. He was a cop, if he found out… she swallowed thickly. She texted a quick message to Cassandra.

“Why????????”

Erica threw her phone away from her to bounce on the couch cushion next to her, landing face down. She stared at it for a few minutes until it buzzed and she lunged for it. A short reply from Cassandra.

“You did”

Erica could have throttled the woman. Exasperated she threw her phone on the sofa again. She would have to be an idiot to pursue Cullen. She would have to be out of her friggin mind to try and spend any time at all with him. She would have to be completely mad to want to know what it felt like to run her fingers through that hair of his and pull him down to-

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the cuss word. ;)  
> Third chapter! whodathunk i'd get this far? As always, please leave a comment. What you like, what you wanna see. Thanks


	4. Meddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra was never one for the slow build. Some things need a little nudge in the right direction. Or a shove, Cassandra was never one for subtlety either.

“I think they would be great together,” Cassandra picked up another sushi and plopped it into her mouth. They were sitting across from each other in Cassandra’s favorite sushi joint. Varric was picking up the tab so Cassandra was enjoying herself.

“I think Dimples has a lot of skeletons she’s gotta shake out of that closet of hers before she’s ready to get in another relationship with cop,” Varric abstained from the fishy foods himself, but he did like a nice Sake now and then.

“Another?” Cassandra frowned at him, confused.

“You count as a relationship Princess,” Varric told her and she blushed when he used her special nickname. “If you’re sharing boot space, you might as well be sharing booty space.” Varric grinned and Cassandra kicked him under the table.

“I don’t see why I can’t just give him her number,” Cassandra said innocently and Varric made a rude noise.

“Don’t you go meddling,” Varric pointed a warning finger at her. “You read enough to know that never works out in the end.” She swatted his hand away irritably.

“I read enough to know that it always works out in the end,” she insisted. “It can’t hurt to skip the… prologue, as it were.”

“You’re assuming the story is about them,” Varric challenged. “You could be skipping the middle and start a whole other book.”

“I’m afraid the book metaphor got away from me a little bit Varric,” Cassandra glared but Varric just shook his head.

“You do what you’re going to do,” he nudged her foot with his, underneath the table. “Never could stop you once you got an idea into your head, and I wouldn’t want to.” She smiled, in spite of herself, and ate another piece of sushi. “I’m just warning you right here and now, that you are messing with forces beyond your ken.”

“Don’t you ‘ken’ me,” Cassandra nudged his foot with hers. “You always get more Shakespeare when you drink. I half expect you to start quoting Mac-“

“Shhh! Don’t say its name!” Varric shushed her dramatically. She rolled her eyes and took the sake bottle away from him.

\--

Cullen needed to do his laundry. He did laundry, everyone did laundry. Just because he was a bachelor living along didn’t mean he didn’t want to be clean. So what if he only had five things to wash? So what if two of those things were socks. It’s not like he was making up reasons to be in the laundry room because that’s where he had bumped into Erica.

Cullen slowly lowered his head to thunk on top of the dryer he was leaning on. He was pathetic. He heard another thunk as a washer door closed. He looked up and blinked at Cassandra Pentaghast standing in front of a washer. She was looking at him with her intense brown eyes.

She intimidated everyone, but Cullen had sort of been hoping it was partially the way she dressed. She wore button ups and slacks like everyone else. It was cop wear, he assumed that everyone looked more intimidating in it. He was wrong. It was all her. Her and her cheekbones.

She was wearing jeans, and a babydoll t-shirt. She wasn’t wearing heels either, so Cullen was slightly taller than her. That made him feel more uncomfortable. He himself was wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt. She managed to make him feel underdressed in a casual environment. He realized he was staring.

“Hey,” Cullen nodded in acknowledgement.

“Hello,” she nodded back and they awkwardly stood like that for what seemed like years but was probably like three minutes. She seemed to be considering something, weighing her options. Cullen wracked his brain for a conversation starter. His first, treacherous thought was to ask about Erica. He shut that thought right down.

“How’s the arm?” He finally blurted out, unable to take the silence anymore. She unconsciously touched her rips where she had been stabbed.

“It’s healed nicely,” she replied dropping the hand back to her side. “Thank you.” Cullen nodded, it had been a long time since she had gotten the injury, almost two weeks.

“You have been settling in?” She asked hesitantly. “In town, I mean.” She clarified for him. Cullen grimaced. He tried not to think about Kirkwall, what had happened. It had not been a good place to come from, but he liked living in Haven, it had decent rent.

“It’s…” he searched for something not horribly depressing to say. “It’s been better.” He finally settled on and Cassandra nodded. She had a look on her face that made Cullen feel like she understood his need for distance.

Cullen’s dryer dinged and he moved to fill his basket. He moved quickly, not wanting this awkward laundry room moment to go on any longer than it already had. It was actually more awkward than the time he hadn’t had any clothes on. He finished loading his basket and gave Cassandra a professional nod before moving past her towards the stairs. She put out a hand to stop him. He looked at her, startled.

“If you…” she trailed off, still with that pondering look in her eyes. “If you wanted to give me your number, I could ask Erica if she wanted it.” She said eventually and Cullen’s pulse raced. She would?

“You would?” Cullen was incredulous, it was strange for stoic Cassandra to offer you a good morning, much less play wingman. She smiled at him, it softened her whole face. She looked like a whole other person when she smiled. Cullen briefly wondered what it would be like to be able to get her to smile like that all the time.

“I would,” she said but then her face got stern again and Cullen tensed. “I will _ask,_ Rutherford.” She warned him. “If she refuses then I will hear no more about it. Got it?” She demanded and Cullen nodded emphatically. He didn’t want to be that guy. Her face softened again and her voice lost most of its edge. “I do not think she will refuse.” She told him and Cullen felt the blood in his ears.

“You think?” He asked hesitantly, hopefully even. Cassandra only laughed, it was even more transforming than her smile.

“Give me your number Rutherford.” She rolled her eyes and pulled out her own phone. Cullen juggled his laundry basket to get his own out of his pocket. She typed in the digits and Cullen thanked her profusely on his way up the stairs.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was a better start than waiting around in the basement that was for sure.

\--

Cassandra watched the retreating back of Cullen as he raced up the stairs and smiled to herself. She didn’t care what Varric said, some people need a push. And if she had to put up with Erica’s carefully not asking about Cullen for one more sodding day she was going to lock them both in a closet until they calmed down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Cassandra more than i should admit. Shes just a big ol caramel cookie. Please comment need them to eat.


	5. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Active people doing active things... no its still not a porno

Erica dropped her gym bag unceremoniously in the entryway as she staggered into the apartment. She had to go for a run, but right now she just needed a drink. She stumbled into the kitchen in search of water. Normally her parkour class at the community center wasn’t enough to wind anyone, but some punk kid had challenged her to the rock wall and she would be damned if she let him beat her. Funnily enough, she couldn’t really remember his face….

She found a water bottle labeled ‘Cassandra’ and began to drink it dry… before promptly spitting it out all over the room. It was vinegar. Cassandra had told her a thousand times not to take her stuff. Erica rinsed her mouth out in the sink and vowed revenge on her crafty roommate, when said roommate came through the door. She came into the kitchen and spotted Erica, head in the sink, managing to look both sheepish and angry at the same time.

“I see you helped yourself to my water again,” Cassandra commented smugly, and walked over to the fridge herself. She let out a disgusted noise. “I hope you’re planning on cleaning this up.” Erica’s head was still in the sink but she managed to flip her off from where she was. “Cute,” was her only retort. “Shouldn’t you be on your run?” Some people were ‘people persons’. Cassandra was a schedule person.

“I got sabotaged,” Erica gargled bitterly. Cassandra just rolled her eyes and took an apple from the refrigerator. She paused then, and Erica looked at her expectantly.

“I was doing the laundry,” Cassandra began casually, and Erica’s heart did a treacherous little flip.

“O-oh?” Erica examined her hair, as if uninterested in the conversation.

“I ran into Rutherford,” Cassandra continued. Erica did her very best not to spin around. Instead, she turned towards her roommate and leaned on the edge of the sink.

“Who?” Erica asked innocently. Cassandra snorted a laugh.

“Right, like you haven’t been pestering me for news from the office all week.” She raised an impressive eyebrow.

“Maybe I turned back to my life of crime.” Erica was being petulant and she knew it. “And I want to know what the 5-0 are up to.” Cassandra’s unimpressed look didn’t falter. Erica squirmed. Cassandra was used to grilling people in the interrogation room. She could wait longer than Erica could. “Fine,” Erica shot out the word. “What did Cullen say?” Cassandra smirked.

“Nothing.” She bit into her apple. Erica’s mouth dropped open. Cassandra wasn’t usually _cruel_ \--that thing with the water bottle was not going to kill either of them. Erica’s mind was leaning rather towards homicide at the moment though.

“Nothing,” Erica echoed. Cassandra nodded as she chewed her bite of apple. She didn’t look like she was going to comment any more on the subject. “That’s…” She searched for a word that could be aired on a children’s network. “Nice?” She settled on, glaring a little at the indifferent pair of cheekbones leaning on the table across from her. She moved as if to leave the kitchen when Cassandra stopped her.

“I did get his number though.” She took another bit of her apple. Erica spun around so fast she nearly got whiplash.

“His number?” Erica squawked. “His number, his _phone_ number?” she clarified unnecessarily. Cassandra nodded again. Erica couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss her or kill her. “Can I--“ She cut herself off. If she asked, Cassandra would just make her beg for it. She decided the sweetest revenge she could get was to just walk away. “I’m going for my run,” she told Cassandra, turned and swiftly exited the kitchen ignoring the choking noises Cassandra was making behind her.

“You’re leaving?” Cassandra’s eyes were wide. Erica smirked triumphantly as she adjusted her ponytail.

“Yup.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Cassandra before slipping out the door and into the hall. She giggled in a very undignified manner as she descended the stairs to the lobby. She was going to die of curiosity out on her run, but it was worth it to have seen the bug-eyed look on Cassandra’s face. Erica would run a little faster than usual that day. For cardio, she told herself.

\--

Cullen had had a late start. He had gotten back to his apartment, put away his five articles of clothing, and was carefully avoiding looking at his phone. It was foolish, she might not even want his number, but even if she did it would be stupid to think she would text him this soon. So he got to work on his paper work. There was a lot of it, for the new guy in the office. Cullen didn’t mind, he would never admit it, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to be out in the field.

Field. Outside. Run! Shit.

Cullen grabbed his phone to look at the time. It was already 2:30. He cursed and abandoned his paperwork to get changed. He was a creature of habit, and his therapist had suggested he stick to those healthy habits of his. Cullen enjoyed running more now that he had moved from Kirkwall. Kirkwall, a port city, was too warm and muggy.

Cullen double-checked to make sure he had his keys, fool me once and all that, before he let the door slam closed behind him. He took the stairs two at a time and burst out the lobby doors and turned right. He slowed into a rhythm when he had gone about half a block. He didn’t much go for rap music normally, but he found that he liked the pace when he was running, so that’s what he was listening to when he ran into Erica.

Almost literally ran into her. She was running the other way and looked gorgeous, cheeks flushed from exertion. The slight sheen of sweat covering her made her look like she was glowing. She looked at him with wide eyes as she stopped alongside him. He took out one earbud and managed to stop staring long enough to grin at her.

“Hey,” he panted. He suspected he didn’t look nearly as good as she did though. His hair was going curly, and he was sure he had pit stains.

“Hey,” she replied. She was out of breath too, but she was trying to control her breathing to look composed. “Fancy meeting you here,” she gestured at his attire. “Fully clothed and everything.” She grinned and he blushed.

“Yes well,” Cullen stammered, hand going to rub the back of his neck.

“I get it.” She was beginning to regain her composure. “You’re trying to get a tan.” She grinned and he couldn’t keep an answering smile from spreading across his face. “I was hoping I would run into you anyway.” She said unexpectedly and Cullen felt his eyes bug out of his head.

“You were?” he asked, quickly adding, “I mean, I’m glad I ran into you too.” He was, but he had hoped to be wearing more clothes. And be sweating less. And not to have Eminem cursing loudly in his ears. He took out his other earbud.

“Yeah, my roommate told me she has your number.” She bit her lip, her eyes not meeting his. “She’s totally going to make me beg for it, so I was hoping I could just get it from the source?” She smiled nervously. “Unless you changed your mind about giving strange girls your number?”

“No,” Cullen said, and if he said it too quickly or too loudly, she didn’t seem to notice. “No, I still--um. Yeah, I’ll give you my number.” She looked him in the eyes then, with those stunning green eyes. They were like gemstones and they positively glittered.

“Cool.” She pulled out her phone and he read off the digits. She typed them in and when she put her phone away she gave him a mischievous look. “You’ll be getting an ‘it’s me’ message in a minute.” She adjusted her ponytail. “I’d better let you get back to your run.” Cullen started. How long had they been standing there?

“I’ll see you later?” Cullen didn’t mean for it to come out like a question.

Erica nodded slowly. “I think that’s a distinct possibility.” She grinned again before she turned, jogging back the way she had come. He watched her go before he shook himself and started the other way. His phone buzzed a minute later and he looked at the screen. He had to stop running when he read the message, lest he run into something.

‘cant u get arrested for running that hot?’ (and there is also a winky face emoji)

Cullen couldn’t help but grin and shake his head. He finished his run with his heart beating a pleasant rhythm in his ears.

\--

Erica couldn’t believe she had just done that. All that ranting and raving about not getting anywhere near him, and she practically trips over him. Did he have to look that good too? Him and his impossibly pretty eyes, enormous biceps, and curly hair? No it was unnecessary, that’s what it was. Of course _she_ looked like a pig, sweating uncontrollably, and panting like a basset hound.

And she had flirted with him again. She had no self-control, none at all. He was so pretty, and he had looked happy to see her. Her stomach did a little flip when she remembered that crooked smile. Oh she was in trouble, and she wanted to be arrested.

However, she thought smugly as she pushed open the door to her apartment, she wouldn’t have to ask Cassandra for his number now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a couch potato who wouldn't leave her house if she didnt have classes to get to. So i really have no idea what healthy people do on runs. i hope this isnt TOO far off. Please comment i live for comments. Things should pick up after this maybe, Erica's a take charge kind of girl.


	6. Roll for Initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gang form DA2 is in this one! (most of them)

“Roll for initiative,” Varric drawled, and everyone groaned. The sound of rattling dice filled the silence.

“I knew this was a trap,” Erica complained to the room at large. “Didn’t I say this was totally a trap?”

“Shut up and set up a flank.” Cassandra glared at her from the other end of the table.

They were playing Dungeons and Dragons in Varric’s bookshop, like they always did on Saturday nights. Cassandra had been against joining the weekly game, she insisted she didn’t have the temperament for it. But Varric had insisted that it was the easiest way to get acquainted with his other friends. And Cassandra had turned out to have the perfect temperament for it. Better, she had a mind meant for creative role playing.

“I don’t understand,” a soft Welsh voice said from next to Varric. “He said ‘welcome to his home,’ so why are we attacking him?” Merrill looked at Varric for an explanation, but Hawke was the one to supply it.

“Pay less attention to his words, Merrill,” Hawke said, rearranging her character sheet. “And more attention to the description of how many guys Varric just told us were in the room.” Varric nodded, the sly smile never leaving his face. It was his dungeon master face, and Erica hated it.

“Which of us is actually in the room?” Anders asked from Erica’s left. He was the party healer, but only as an afterthought. Merrill had rolled a cleric-druid sort of character, but had repeatedly forgotten to queue any healing spells. Cassandra and Fenris were getting tired of dying, so Anders had multiclassed.

“All of you,” Varric said. “He waited patiently for you all to file in before threatening you.”

“How generous,” Fenris muttered from beside Hawke. Fenris was a monk now. His warrior character had gotten killed by slavers, so he rolled a new character. Erica wasn’t sure why he had picked monk. He was probably jealous of Erica’s dexterity. Not that it helped.

“Thirty-four,” Erica announced and Fenris growled.

“Twenty-nine.” He glared at Erica, who grinned good-naturedly. Hawke patted her boyfriend’s arm comfortingly.

“Three!” Merrill exclaimed. Hawke leaned over to check her math at the same time Varric did.

“You didn’t add your initiative, Daisy,” Varric told her, pointing at where the number was printed on her paper.

“But you did roll a die 20 instead of a die 4 this time,” Hawke insisted encouragingly. The rest of the group gave Varric their numbers and the fight began.

“So how’s it going with the underwear model?” Anders asked Erica as Varric was coaching Merrill through her turn. Erica had been taking a sip of soda when the question was posed, and nearly spat it out.

“Underwear-- oh, Cullen.” She sputtered and reddened a little before composing herself. “He’s not an underwear model, Anders, he’s a cop.”

“Cop, underwear model, same difference.” Anders grinned and waved his hand dismissively and Varric snorted a laugh.

“Wouldn’t _that_ be the life?” He eyed Cassandra at the other end of the table, who just rolled her eyes.

“Anyway it’s not going anywhere,” Erica said levelly. “We’re texting, that’s all.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow at that. “Just texting?” she said skeptically. Erica saw where that line of questioning was going and threw an M&M at her.

“Gross, Hawke, get your mind out of the gutter.” She laughed, and Hawke threw up her hands in defense.

“Not what I was thinking, I swear!” she said. “I just thought he gave you his number weeks ago.” There was a flurry of in-game activity as Cassandra got a critical.

“So?” Erica prompted Hawke when it was Anders’ turn and he was healing their dumb asses.

“So, I would have gotten coffee with him by now.” Hawke said, and Fenris snorted derisively.

“After a month of having my number you were practically in my bed.” He smirked at Hawke and she hit him.

“Don’t try and make it sound like you were seducing me.” She matched his smirk. “I fought for every inch.”

“Gross,” Anders complained, and Cassandra added her noise of disapproval.

“The… opportunity hasn’t come up yet,” Erica said carefully.

Cassandra made another sound of disapproval. “She won’t let it,” she said with a little smirk of her own, “because she still hasn’t told him about her past.”

Everyone murmured in understanding, even Merrill. Erica flushed.

“So lie,” Anders said with a shrug, and Hawke kicked him under the table. “Ow! What? What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“Not telling him I’m a reformed felon is not the same as making up a lie to tell him.” This line of questioning was making Erica uncomfortable. She was just glad Isabela was in Orlais for the week. That woman could make _church_ uncomfortably sexual.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to you going to coffee,” Merrill offered, but then her eyes widened. “Unless you robbed the coffee shop.”

“No, Merrill.” Erica couldn’t help but chuckle at her expression. “I didn’t rob any coffee houses.” She reached for the bag of chips and added. “Besides, places I hit tended not to be standing afterwards.”

“Wasn’t your thing to burn places down?” Fenris asked, his tone unaccusatory. Fenris was also a convicted felon, reformed like Erica.

“Sort of,” Erica munched a chip. “My ‘thing’ was using arson as a distraction. People tend not to notice things are missing when other things are all burned up.” She shrugged, embarrassed. “Besides, I figured insurance would pay out, so I wasn’t really hurting anyone permanently.”

Cassandra didn’t glare, knew Erica was really ashamed of that point in her life. Back then, she made excuses for everything she did. She lied because it was fun, and because she was good at it. She stole because it was easier. But then someone had gotten hurt, _badly_. Cassandra had caught her. Erica didn’t know why, even knowing everything, she had offered to have Erica live with her. She was more grateful than she could ever express to the terse woman.

“It’s the past,” Anders said, tone softer than it had been. “I still don’t see why that means you can’t date a stripper.” He grinned even as Erica assaulted him.

“He’s a cop,” Erica persisted. “A beacon of law. He couldn’t want to be associated with me, and if he knew, others would soon learn. And then we’d- _I’d_ have to move again.”

“We.” Cassandra corrected Erica without pausing. Erica smiled wanly at her. Seriously, what had she done to deserve a friend like Cassandra? What luck had she managed to steal?

The game broke up around midnight. Fenris and Hawke offered Anders a ride as usual, knowing he'd rather chew his own arm off than be alone in a car with the couple. He set off alone for his place across town. Varric, Cassandra, and Erica exchanged goodbyes, then headed up the street to their building.

“Pretty sure goblins have less hit points than that, Varric,” Cassandra said giving a pointed look at Varric, who just shrugged.

“Pretty sure that’s meta knowledge, Princess.” Varric grinned and slid his arm around her waist. Cassandra smiled reflexively but her glare was back a second later.

“You just wanted Fenris to get that last blow,” she accused.

“Admitting nothing,” Varric started. “You gotta admit a goblin being punched apart makes for a better story than being sliced to ribbons by a beautiful Templar.”

“My charisma is a fourteen, Varric.” Cassandra rolled her eyes, but she was smiling at him.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Varric countered, and that was Erica’s cue to walk ahead of the couple. She sprinted a few steps to give them a modicum of privacy. Which meant she was the first to see the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for taking forever with this chapter. wasn't sure where i was going. i do now though, and you are all screwed. anywho, comments are always appreciated! tell me if you play DND and if this sounded like a game you've been in.


	7. Fire and Popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking way to familiar for Erica's taste.

Erica found herself running towards the melee, soles slapping on concrete as she arrived in front of her apartment building. Her mind cleared enough to count how many floors up the flames seemed to be starting. Four. The fire was on the fourth floor. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blaze, she felt like she was _in_ the fire. Her throat constricted, she couldn’t breathe.

“Erica!” Large hands and her name being called pulled her back to herself. Cullen. His face was full of concern in the low light. “Are you all right?” he was asking, his hands still on her shoulders as he peered into her face.

“Mmm,” she managed feebly. Her hands had drifted up to rest on his chest, solid and real. She thought vaguely that she had yet to see this man in a full state of dress. He was wearing a ratty college T-shirt, and flannel pajama bottoms.

“Thank the Maker,” Cullen was saying, dropping his head. “When the alarm went off, but then I wasn’t sure… and then I didn’t see you…” He trailed off and looked back up and into her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He said with such feeling that she could feel the blush spread from her nose to her hairline.

“We were at Varric’s shop--Cassandra!” She remembered her roommate and peered past Cullen to look for her. The flames had been extinguished by then, so she had to squint in the gloom to see anything. Erica spotted Cassandra jogging up to the building, Varric not far behind her. His cell phone was already out. Varric could perform minor miracles with that thing and Erica relaxed infinitesimally. She slipped from Cullen’s arms to make her way towards them.

“You live on the fourth floor?” Suddenly there was a wall of police officer in her way. Erica nearly ran into him. He was taller than her, wearing the blue uniform of a cop, not a detective. “I asked you a question,” he snapped, and Erica’s ex-con instincts told her to run. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t done anything, there was an angry man in blue in front of her.

“Y-yes, I live on the fourth floor.” Erica pulled herself to her full height in a show of bravery she did not feel. He was less than impressed.

“I have a few—“ he started, looming over Erica. He pulled back sharply as Cullen made a sudden reappearance at Erica’s elbow. He was glaring daggers at the officer, which was probably not good for Cullen’s job security.

“Don’t you have a car to ticket?” Cullen growled.

“I see the uniform for detectives has really gone downhill since Kirkwall, eh, Rutherford?” the policeman snarled right back. It was a really impressive display of manliness, but Erica would really rather not have to explain to Cassandra why she let two grown-ass men fight right over her.

And it _was_ over her. Maker, what did they put in the water in Kirkwall that made these boys grow so big and strong? The officer currently facing down Cullen wasn’t as big as Cullen himself was, less broad but just as tall. He had reddish hair as far as she could make out in the dim light, and his scruff was not nearly as attractive as Cullen’s. But it was his eyes that unnerved Erica. She felt like she had seen his eyes before, but in something more cold-blooded and scaly.

 

 

“I have half--“ the scaly officer said, pointing one long finger in Cullen’s face, but he was having no luck with full sentences tonight because that’s when Cassandra made her appearance.

“Samson,” she addressed the officer. “This is not your division.” Her voice was ice, her eyes steel. Samson flinched under her gaze, slowly turning from Cullen and Erica to face her.

“It was--“ Samson began, but Cassandra was having none of it.

“Where is the detective in charge?” she demanded. She stepped towards and a little to the right of the creepy little man, effectively corralling him towards the other uniforms and away from Erica and Cullen. Erica breathed a sigh of relief when she judged them far enough away.

“You two know each other?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound light. Cullen was still glaring at their retreating backs.

“We did,” was all he would offer on the subject. “Never knew him to menace people outside of a case.”

Erica tried to breathe like nothing was wrong. Officer Samson didn’t know anything. There wasn’t anything _to_ know. She hadn’t so much as set off fireworks in five years. And even if the fire had been set, and it wasn’t an accident, she had an alibi. Said alibi came stalking back towards her presently.

“What happened?” Erica asked as Cassandra approached, muttering something rude in Nevarran.

“They won’t tell me,” Cassandra bit out. “Non-conclusive my ass.” She glared over her shoulder at the cluster of firemen and police officers. “I’m going down to the station. I will not be harassed.” She said it like it wasn’t Erica Officer Samson had singled out.

“I’ll go with you,” Cullen said, but Cassandra shook her head.

“Keep an eye on Samson,” she jerked her head in that direction. “There’s no evidence for arson yet, but he asked the landlord to point out who lived on the fourth floor.” Erica’s blood turned to ice. While it was good that he hadn’t recognized her from a line up or something, he had been looking for someone to blame. Felons make such good scapegoats.

Cullen nodded and Cassandra took off, snagging Varric on her way back down the street.

“I bet this wasn’t what you were dreaming about,” Erica managed to grin up at Cullen and he smiled back.

“I don’t dream much now-a-days,” he breezed, but there was a shadow behind his eyes. Erica was suddenly reminded of what had happened in Kirkwall. Maker, she set fires and he was the one with burns. She reached out and took his hand, to give it a comforting squeeze.

They stood there for a long moment that was broken only by the fireman telling them that there was no structural damage, and that they could go back inside. It was then that Erica realized she was homeless.

“Maker’s balls!” she cursed, and Cullen let out a nervous bark of laughter.

“What now?” he asked, not a little exasperated.

“I…” She trailed off. Cassandra had taken off with Varric, it was two in the morning, and she had no other friends. Her hand was still tucked in Cullen’s warm palm. Cullen seemed to come to the same realization she had and his eyes widened as he looked in the direction Cassandra had gone.

“Maker’s balls,” Cullen echoed her exclamation from earlier, puffing out his cheeks.

“I’ll pick Varric’s lock,” she said, and then realized she was still surrounded by cops.

“No you shouldn’t have to,” he faltered. He was blushing, and looked down at her hand in his. He didn’t let go, and she didn’t pull away. They stood there, a deadlock of politeness and shyness. “I’ve got a couch…” He said finally.

Erica bit her bottom lip. She should run away screaming. Her past was coming back to kick her in the teeth, and she should back away slowly from this impossibly attractive officer of the law. Instead she tightened her grip on his hand and tugged him towards the front doors.

“You got Netflix?” She asked with a grin.

\--

This was not where he thought he would be when he woke a few hours ago. Cullen had roused himself from his nightmare the usual way: suppressed shouts and scrambling up in bed. His heartrate was just beginning to normalize when the fire alarm started blaring and he shouted in surprise. He’d only just remembered to grab a shirt before he exited his apartment.

He wasn’t sure his heart could take any more shocks, and then he had heard that the fire had started in the apartments above his. He’d demanded to know which one, but he was shooed away without any answers. His heart fell to his shoes when he couldn’t find Erica or Cassandra in the crowd.

And then he had seen her. Running up the street looking just as horrified as he felt. She didn’t hear him approach, even though he called her name several times. He finally took hold of her shoulders, her unresponsiveness causing his earlier panic to bubble up again. She had look at him then, with those green eyes glittering in the reflected light from the fire.

Eyes that now reflected the glow from his television. They had argued about what to watch for a good half an hour. It was a good kind of argument, all laughter and childish insults. They had finally settled on “Undercover Blues.” Or rather, she had finally wrested the remote from him and had played the movie, smothering his laughing protests with a couch cushion.

Cullen didn’t have a large couch, but there was still a person-sized space between them. Cullen found himself wishing he’d only bought armchairs. He hadn’t seen this movie before, but it had been on Netflix so it didn’t matter. His mind wasn’t really engaged and he found his thoughts wandering back to when he had seen Samson again.

Cullen felt his rage building again. Samson. That rat bastard had some nerve threatening residents. Samson had been in the organized crime division, he fielded threats against the department. He had received the threats made to the department right before the attack, and had done nothing. Cullen thought back to that fateful day. Too much fire, and so much screaming.

He was startled back to himself when he felt Erica’s hand on his shoulder, her eyes on his face. Her eyebrows were knit together in concern and her mouth was slightly open, as if she was about to ask him something. He managed a weak smile, distracted by that adorable overbite of hers.

“I’ll go see if I have any popcorn,” Cullen said.

When he came back, Erica was laughing about alligators or something and Cullen completely forgot about Samson. He took his seat on the couch again, and was surprised when Erica immediately scooted closer. Her shoulder bumped his as her other hand reached for the popcorn.

Right, the popcorn. Maybe he should have gotten two bags. He shoved that idea somewhere dark and enjoyed the warmth of her body so close to his. It had been a while since he had had anyone over, attractive red-head or not. He had forgotten how nice it was to just watch a movie and eat popcorn with another person.

She was saying something about the movie and he pulled his head out of the clouds to try and catch up to the plot. And if his arm was slung around the back of the couch and subsequently around Erica, well that was just fine by him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me, two chapters in as many days. i spoil you guy. i kid, im so bad at updating. let me know if you've seen Undercover Blues its a funny spy movie with babys! comments are always welcome please comment.


	8. Climbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More active people doing active things. Cole makes another appearance.

“All right, we’ll start on that next week!” Erica called out as she dismissed her class. A sigh of relief spread through the fifteen or twenty people gathered there. She grinned to herself. If they were complaining, they were learning. It was what _her_ teacher had told her many times. She grimaced at the memory.

“Breath heaving, legs pumping…” murmured a voice directly to Erica’s left and she turned to face it. “One roof, then the other. Jump jump jump,” continued the gaunt-looking blond boy. His eyes were a cold blue, but it was a face that was friendly.

“Don’t I know you?” Erica narrowed her eyes and pointed at him. Yes, she remembered. The punk kid who had challenged her to the climbing wall. “Spider-boy.” She grinned.

“Cole,” Cole corrected her.

“That’s right.” Erica snapped her fingers in recognition. “You here for a rematch, Cole?” she asked, pointing a thumb at the climbing wall. Cole shook his head.

“He wants to, though,” Cole said, pointing behind her. She turned to see Cullen looking around the community center. Her heart did a gleeful little flip when Cullen’s eyes found her and he grinned that lopsided grin. Maker, he could provide solar power to the city with an expression that sunny. She was grinning herself when she turned to say goodbye to Cole. The boy was gone though.

“Hey,” Cullen greeted her, but she wasn’t satisfied with that and she threw her arms around his neck. She was warm from her workout, thankfully not sweaty. You don’t get sweaty from teaching a class that low-key.

“Hi,” she said when she let him go. He was looking a little pink around the ears. “What brings you here on this fine day?” she asked, taking in his state of dress and the gym bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Thought I’d check out the community center.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I remembered you said you had a class.” He had come to see her. Erica was a little pink around the ears herself now.

“My class is hardly stimulating exercise,” Erica said, fixing her ponytail. “If you really want a work out…” She let her eyes travel the length of him, giving him the once over. She stretched her arms above her head, enjoying the way his eyes were glued to her. She bent to stretch her quads, grinning when his whole body shifted to follow her movements.

“You could challenge me to the climbing wall,” she said as she stood up straight. Cullen blinked a few times, bringing himself back to the words she was speaking.

“The… the climbing wall?” Cullen echoed her, and she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Come on.” She grabbed his arm--Maker, his arms were thick as lamp posts--and tugged him towards the rock wall. “It’s more difficult than it looks,” she warned. Cullen gave her a disbelieving look.

“Sure.” Cullen set his gym bag down and Erica handed him a harness. “If you’re a fifth grader,” Cullen said in a mocking tone of voice. Oh, she was going to enjoy this.

“All right, Mr. Confidence, let’s make a wager.” Erica hooked them to the cables. Cullen’s eyes glinted competitively.

“A wager?” Cullen tilted his head, considering her words. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, and Erica had him then.

“If you win, I have to carry you home,” she said simply, and Cullen snorted a laugh. They squared up to the wall.

“Uh-huh,” Cullen said. “And what happens if you win?” He asked.

“Oh, _when_ I win,” she said, putting emphasis on the ‘when’. “I’ll let you know.” Cullen just laughed, Maker he did have a great laugh. “First one to the top.”

“On your mark,” he said. “Get set… go!”

\--

She had to be crazy to challenge him to the rock wall. Cullen was certain he had more upper body strength than she did. And longer arms. He wondered if she would insist on trying to carry him home when she lost.

All of these thoughts ran through Cullen’s head as he took the first five or so hand holds. He was focused on finding the next one when a something caught in his peripherals. He turned his head to see Erica skimming up the wall. He felt his mouth hang open as she appeared to be running up the sheer face. He came to his senses quickly and redoubled his efforts.

Erica was patiently waiting for him at the top, features set in a smug grin.

“How many times have you done this?” Cullen asked suspiciously. Maybe she just knew all the footholds. She just laughed at him.

“Look, Rutherford,” she said. She always used his last name when she was teasing him. “We could do this four times, at four different parts of this wall, and I would _still_ beat you.” She shook her head in mock sympathy. “I’m just that good.”

“Rematch,” Cullen demanded.

“Oooh, didn’t peg you for a sore loser, Rutherford.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth. Cullen wouldn’t let himself get distracted by her eyes, though. He was competitive, and he’d be damned before he gave in without a fight.

“Rematch,” he repeated stubbornly. “Loser buys dinner too,” he added as an after-thought.

“Deal,” Erica said as she leapt off the wall. He gasped before he remembered the harness and jumped after her, maybe a little less gracefully.

Cullen led them to a spot on the wall he deemed suitable. It was in a different part of the room, where the ceiling allowed the wall to climb higher. Cullen shot a challenging smirk at Erica who continued to look unperturbed.

“I hate seafood, by the way,” Cullen remarked casually as they attached themselves to the wall again.

“I’ll let you pick where we eat.” Erica leaned over to adjust his straps. “You’re buying after all.” Her face was very near his when she looked back up at him. “Didn’t you used to live in Kirkwall? Isn’t that a port city?” Cullen snorted a laugh.

“Yes,” he said derisively. “Why do you think I hate fish?”

He counted to three and they were off again. Cullen didn’t let anything distract him this time. His hands flew out to find handhold after handhold. He didn’t even bother to find foot holds and just pulled himself up by his arms alone. He was panting with the exertion when he reached the top, looking over his shoulder to see where Erica was.

“Nice,” said her smug voice in his ear. “I guess those biceps had to be more than just for show.” He turned to look at her. She wasn’t even breathing very hard. She was flushed pink though, and her pony tail was coming undone. It always seemed to slip free of her hair tie given the slightest chance.

“You’re kidding me.” Cullen hung his head.

“I’m sure if you challenged me to lift twice my weight, or appear in laundry rooms at odd hours in nothing but my underwear to seduce unsuspecting women, you’d have me beat.” She patted his back, their knees brushing as they perched on the edge of the wall. He looked at her. She looked great. Breathing evenly, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, freckles faded in the pink flush of her skin. He had trouble catching his breath, for multiple reasons.

She must have seen it in his eyes because she smiled wider and flushed a deeper shade of pink. Her face was relaxed into a casual expression, but her eyes betrayed her as they darted from his lips to his eyes and back again. He didn’t think about it. He just leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers.

She accepted him readily, hand lifting to cup his cheek as she deepened the kiss. Cullen brought one arm around her waist as the other reached for her hand. The world fell away as her mouth moved against his. Tentatively, at first but more urgently as his tongue ran along her bottom lip. She opened her mouth with a sigh.

He tried to shift closer, and nearly fell off the wall. He let out an oath and she laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek before propelling down the wall. Cullen kicked his giant, clumsy body mentally but followed her down the wall.

When the gear was put away Erica slipped her hand into his, looking at him through her lashes.

“I heard something about dinner?” she asked, tilting her head to one side coyly. Cullen grabbed his bag and tugged her towards the exit.

“What about your prize?” He asked.

“My what?” She looked confused but realized he was referring to the first wager. “Oh that,” she gave him a sly smile. “I already collected on that prize.” Cullen blushed. “Although I’d be happy to collect on it again at a later date.”

Cullen laughed. It sounded like a plan to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things go downhill from here, so i figured you guys deserved a fluff chapter first. i'm a little new to this whole kissing garbage so you'll have to forgive any awkwardness.


	9. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra reminds us that she is a cop, although Varric was rather wishing she wasn't just now...

Cassandra glared at the report in her hands.

It looked like arson. Forensics had come back and said that the windows had been broken from the outside in. There was also evidence of an accelerant. Three apartments on the fourth floor had been hit one after another--Cassandra and Erica’s, and the two on either side. Cassandra snarled and threw the report down on her desk.

This reeked of a setup. Somebody was after either Erica or herself, and Cassandra was livid. There were no end of suspects, either. Erica had ended on less-than-friendly terms with many of her old criminal acquaintances, and Cassandra... well, Cassandra didn’t become a cop to make friends, and she hadn’t made any yet.

Cassandra didn’t think whoever it was was after her, though. The fires had a familiar look to them, and she didn’t have to dig up the file to know they bore the signatures of Erica’s old work. The whole ordeal was pissing Cassandra off. She didn’t have many friends, and she found herself fiercely protective of those she _did_ have.

She made an irritated noise and pushed away from her desk, heading down to the firing range. She needed to blow off steam. As she unloaded her clip into the target, Cassandra stewed over what to do.

She would have to approach Captain Vallen, but all of Cassandra’s evidence was circumstantial at best, and a wild hunch at worst. She reloaded, rapidly. To investigate would mean digging up Erica’s old file, however briefly; to clear her name, she would have to drag it through the mud again. She unloaded the clip again. Headshot, headshot, heart, heart, headshot, headshot.

Cassandra put down her gun. She knew what had to be done, and no amount of pleading on Erica’s part would persuade her not to. It was the right thing to do, and might just save her life… but still. Cassandra would tell Erica what she was going to do first. She would give Erica the chance to tell Cullen about her past before Cassandra would approach Captain Vallen.

“There you are.” A voice, muffled by the protective headgear Cassandra wore, drew her attention. Cullen stood there, eyes worried, mouth set in a determined line. In the weeks following the fire, when Cassandra had been staying with Varric, Erica had been staying with him. Erica always made excuses to stay late, and he would make excuses to take his own couch.

Cullen and Erica had been all over one another. Cassandra would die before she told them, but she enjoyed the thought of the two of them together. Varric had been teasing her about ‘friend-fiction’. Erica came from such darkness, and Cullen was similarly broken. They fit together, and it did her heart good to see.

“Any updates?” Cullen asked for the third time that week. It technically wasn’t their case, either of them. But Cassandra had connections, and Cullen had Cassandra. He had asked about the case once a day, every day. He had persistence, she had to admit.

“Soon,” Cassandra nodded at him. “Tomorrow probably.” She smiled a little when his face lit up. She would tell Erica after her lunch with Varric, rather than wait until she got home. There was still a sense of unease Cassandra couldn’t quite shake.

She bid farewell to Cullen and made her way back to her desk. After a moment, she decided to take the file with her. It couldn’t hurt to look it over a few more times. Varric was always a help whenever he wheedled information about a tough case out of her. Maybe he could help her scratch the weird itch in the back of her mind.

She drove down to Varric’s favorite restaurant, the Viscount’s Keep. A little too Orlaisian for her tastes, but it was his turn to pick and she did prefer the wine selection. She found a parking spot down the street a little and made her way to the doors. She was busy trying to see if Varric was waiting for her out front, too busy to see the gun.

Varric _was_ waiting for her out front, though, so he did see flash of the muzzle, and hear the loud pop, pop that accompanied the two rounds that went into Cassandra’s chest. The other people outside of the Viscount’s Keep started to panic, looking around for the gun. Varric saw the man dart out of the alley before Cassandra’s body even hit the ground. Varric was shouting as he pushed his way towards Cassandra’s fallen form. The man grabbed the file Cassandra had been carrying, now strewn across the sidewalk. He saw Varric coming and only grabbed most of the file before taking off.

Varric almost went after him, but then there was his seeker, his princess. She was bleeding, her eyes wide in shock. He spared only a last glance at his retreating back before stooping beside her.

“Hey Princess,” he croaked, his voice sore from yelling. He pulled out his phone even as he clutched her hand, already so cold. He tried to find a joke, a clever remark to make her angry enough to stay with him. Something about taking work wherever she went. But there was so much blood and her hands were _never_ this cold.

Varric ended up delegating calling 911 to an onlooker as he struggled with his tears and trying to stop Cassandra from losing any more blood.

\--

Erica was snooping. She had spilled ketchup on her shirt, and instead of going over to Varric’s for a change, she had slipped into Cullen’s room to borrow a shirt. She was poking through his drawers, not really looking for anything, just delighting in being in his personal space. Her phone buzzed and she looked at the display, hoping to see the picture of Cullen she had taken to pop up, indicating a call from him.

It was an unknown number, but a local area code. She answered with her name and to ask who it was.

Ten minutes later, she was at the hospital, ketchup stained shirt and everything. A nurse called to her to tell her to stop running but she ignored them. She spotted Varric, sitting in a chair with his elbows on his knees. He looked up when he heard her approach.

She noted how much older he looked in that instant. Tired lines around his eyes and mouth, his hair disheveled. He wiped his eyes and stood to meet her. Erica’s eyes were filling with tears and she stumbled blindly into his arms. She had to bend the tiniest bit but she rested her nose on his shoulder and cried, Varric making comforting shooshing noises and rubbing small circles into her back.

“V-varric,” Erica hiccup through her tears.

“I know, Dimples.” Varric said into her hair.

Anders showed up then, in his nurse’s uniform. He looked tired too, he was probably pulling a double shift since he normally worked during the day.

“Hey,” Anders greeted them briefly. “She’s still in surgery. I don’t want to tell you to hope, but it’s not hopeless yet.” Anders said in his usual grim manner. “Doctor Orsino is the best we have though, she’s in good hands.” Erica’s bottom lip quivered and she burst into tears again. She threw her arms around Anders’ neck and Erica cried on him for a little while.

“But what _happened,_ Varric?” Erica asked Varric when she finally let go of Anders. “She was coming to meet you and then she was shot? Why?” She couldn’t understand who would have it out so bad for Cassandra that she was gunned down in broad daylight. More frustratingly, that he had gotten _away_ in broad daylight.

“I don’t know, Dimples.” Varric ran his fingers through his hair and the note of hopelessness in his voice nearly set her off crying again. “I watched her walk up the street, I watched the gun—“ His voice choked off and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Maker, if I had been faster,” he growled and Anders stopped him.

“No,” he shook his head. “Don’t do that, Varric. There was nothing you could have done, it’s not your fault.” Anders put a hand on one of Varric’s shoulders, catching his eye and holding his gaze. “The only one to blame is the son of a bitch that pulled the trigger,” Anders said with such force that Erica put a hand on _his_ shoulder.

“Erica?” She turned at the sound of her name to see Cullen, looking a little disheveled, standing a few feet from her. She made a strangled cry and flung herself into his arms. She was crying again, she was doing a lot of that. Cullen made like Varric, stroking her hair and murmuring reassuring things in her ears. “I came as soon as I could,” Cullen continued when she finally stopped crying again.

“No luck catching…?” Erica trailed off at the scowl on Cullen’s face. Obviously they hadn’t caught the guy.

“No,” Cullen ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s like he vanished two blocks away from the incident.”

“She had a file from work,” Varric broke the tension by reaching for the seat he had been sitting on, and retrieving a few blood stained pictures.

“Crime scene photos?” Erica gasped as she took the images from Varric’s fingers. They were clearly of her apartment. Or, some of them were. Some of them were of the other apartments that had been in the fire. “ _Our_ crime scene photos.” She flipped through the five pages she had, Cullen peering over her shoulder.

“Is this all that’s left?” Cullen asked and Varric nodded. “She said she would have something for Captain Vallen tomorrow,” Cullen said, almost to himself, but Varric nodded anyway.

“I’d bet my keen writer’s instincts that the same asshole who set those fires is the same asshole who shot my—who shot Cassandra.” Varric stuttered a little. Erica’s head shot up.

“Set the fires?” Her blood had gone cold. “How do you know they were set?” Varric just raised one eyebrow and shook his head.

“It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together and get four,” he said, in typical writer fashion. “Besides,” he elaborated, pointing to one of the photos. “It’s pretty clear from these pictures that the fires were started over here, by this sofa or whatever it was, and were accelerated with something.”

“Oh, is it?” Anders breathed a laugh.

“When you’ve seen as many crime scene photos as I have,” Varric responded with just a hint of his usual sly smile on his lips, “you start to recognize the patterns.” Erica didn’t move. She felt frozen to the spot.

Patterns. Fire started next to an armchair. Oh yes, Erica knew about patterns. This pattern was one she herself had left before. Someone was making it look like she had set a fire. Her alibi in critical condition, and the rest of her friends ex-cons themselves. Erica stopped herself from jumping at shadows.

The evidence pointing to her had been stolen, and at no light cost. If the intention was to frame Erica, why steal the pictures. Again and again there was that persisting question;

Why?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you things went downhill. please comment and tell me how much you wanna shoot ME in the chest or whatever.


	10. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn the name of the asshole behind all the shit thats been happening.

Night had fallen by the time Erica headed home. Cassandra had pulled though and was in recovery. Anders had told them to go, and said he would call them if anything changed. Varric had refused to leave her and Anders hadn’t put up much of a fight. Cullen seemed to think that the shooter would be coming back to finish the job.

“I’ll be okay,” Cullen tried to reassure her. “You go on home.”

“To my burned down apartment, or the empty apartments?” Erica asked pointedly. Cullen hadn’t relented, and again Erica found herself clinging to him even when she should have been pushing him away. She had to tell him the truth. She had to tell him that it was her fault all of this was happening--the fire, Cassandra getting shot, all of it.

He thought he was the gallant knight, protecting her from the big bad monsters in the world. He should be aware that she was one of the monsters.

It was really hard to tell him anything when he looked at her with those eyes though. So she left him at the hospital, crumpled suit and unruly stubble and all. The image of him pacing worriedly in the hospital hallway followed her the whole way home. So chaotic were her thoughts that she almost didn’t see the intruder when she stumbled tiredly into Cullen’s apartment.

Years of criminal activity had given her sharp instincts, though, so she was already ducking into the kitchen when she heard the gun go off, twice. She yelped against her own volition and crouched down by the fridge.

“Those were warning shots, bitch,” Samson said from the other room. “The next two are going in your pretty little head.”

Officer Samson. The unpleasantly scaly man from the night of the fire. Why was he skulking in Cullen’s apartment? Erica had been so caught up in her own past, she hadn’t considered maybe it was Cullen’s demons who were coming out of the woodwork. Or not, Samson started speaking.

“Cory sends his best from upstate,” he snarled. Erica felt like she had turned to stone. Cory? She was suddenly in the interrogation room five years ago. A younger, scarier version of Cassandra glowering at her from across a table. A younger, stupider version of herself glaring back. Her unexpected tears as she finally told someone the truth, and that ridiculous honest-to-maker cloth handkerchief Cassandra had given her. Erica was pulled back to the present when she heard Samson moving towards the kitchen. She had to act fast. She grabbed all three of the knives in Cullen’s kitchen block, and waited behind the swinging door to the kitchen. As soon as she heard his heavy breathing, she shoved the door into his face and was rewarded with a grunt when the door connected with his skeezy mug.

The gun went off again and Erica lunged behind the sofa. Three.

“Is that the gun you shot Cassandra with?” Erica taunted him as she moved one of the knives into her right hand. _Come on you bastard,_ she willed him to give his position away. _Talk, you son of a—_

“You weren’t in Cory’s employ for very long,” Samson started, and Erica whipped the knife at him. She was at a bad angle, and it was not one of her old throwing daggers. The hilt bounced off the wall behind Samson and he fired again, barely missing her as she rolled away from him. Four. “But even you know to get rid of cop killer guns.”

“Why do it at all?” Erica asked from behind the love seat. She was lucky Samson was an idiot; none of this furniture would stop a bullet. Erica barely had time to be relieved when two more shots ripped through the chair she was hiding behind. Not so stupid then. Erica felt one of the bullets tear through the flesh of her side and she cried out in pain.

“Just give me the rest of the file,” Samson chuckled. “And I can paint Rutherford’s carpet with your grey matter.” He was doing this whole ‘negotiating’ thing all wrong.  


Or maybe he was exactly as stupid as she thought. Six shots. That’s all that kind of revolver held. If the moron had kept the silenced gun he had shot Cassandra with, Erica really would have been finished. As it was, she still had two knives and a head full of stupid and she rushed him. She was rusty, but he was surprised. Erica’s left hand knife went into his shoulder, and the right hand blade sliced his stomach.

“Bitch!” Samson screamed uncreatively. Erica heard the door close, and suddenly there was a big wall of Cullen between her and Samson. Everything was fists and grunts of pain, all stopping when Samson cracked Cullen on the back of his head with the empty revolver and fell out the window, apparently how he had entered the apartment in the first place.

“Cullen!” Erica was at his side in a heartbeat, dropping her knives.

“He’s getting away!” Cullen’s eyes were unfocused; that had been a solid hit on Samson’s part.

“He can’t get very far.” She tried to get Cullen to look at her by forcing herself into his line of sight. “I know who it is.” That worked, and Cullen did look at her then.

“Erica!” he exclaimed as his eyes fell on the bullet wound in her side. It was bleeding, reminding her of the ketchup stain from earlier in the day. Erica hadn’t even felt it until he had said something about it. She made a weak little ‘huh’ noise and sank to the ground, leaning on Cullen for support. His arms went around her and even injured she was appreciative of his impressive arm muscles.  


“The bullet went straight through me,” she tried to reassure him even as he quickly and efficiently pulled up her shirt. To get a better look at the damage. Him undressing her would have been exciting under literally any other circumstances, but as it was she hurt too much to enjoy it.

“We should get you to the hospital,” Cullen insisted and Erica shook her head.

“I’ve patched up Cassandra for far worse than this,” she started to stand and sagged against Cullen again. “I didn’t think it hurt _this_ much though.” She made a mental note to apologize to Cassandra when she got home.

“If you won’t go to a hospital, would you at least hold still?” Cullen asked irritably as he scooped her up into his arms. Again, totally exciting in completely different circumstances. As it was, all she did was let out a hiss of pain as he carried her to his bedroom. Cullen gently laid her out on his bed and disappeared into his bathroom, reappearing with gauze and medical tape.

“I see you have patched yourself up for worse as well,” Erica managed to say smugly. Cullen wouldn’t meet her eye, as he began cleaning the wound. Erica was right, as it turned out; it wasn’t as bad as it had first looked, more of a bullet graze than a bullet hole. Cullen efficiently dressed the wound, but Erica’s shirt was done for. “First ketchup, now bullet holes,” Erica tried for a joke, Cullen looked like _he_ had been the one who had been shot. He was pale and he kept his head down.

“Cullen…” she prompted softly and he looked up then, guilt and pain evident on his face.

“I should have been here,” he said wretchedly. “I shouldn’t have let you go home alone. I knew the minute you left I should have gone with you.” He wrung the rag he had used to clean the bullet hole with in his hands. That explained why he had come barreling in like a knight in rumpled suit.  


“You knew someone was lying in wait in your apartment to attack me?” She put her hands over his, stopping their movements. “Because if you did and you have some sort of psychic power you’ve hidden from me—“

“Do you have to joke about everything?!” Cullen nearly shouted and Erica raised her eyebrows. He was really upset. So was Erica, but for different reasons. Cullen cupped her face in his hands and rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t lose you.” He said so quietly she might not have heard him if he hadn’t been so close.

She brought her hands up to tilt his chin and she kissed him. Slow, and sweet. It was a promise, she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere. He kissed her back, with a desperation that bordered on fearful. Her hands slid around his neck and into his hair as he pressed her back onto the mattress. When they broke for air, he stayed hovering over her, his features still set into an expression of worry. She smiled up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Cullen,” she told him and kissed him again, briefly. She wanted to stay there forever. Or maybe move just a little. But Samson was still out there, and he was working for Cory. Erica was suddenly reminded that Cullen still thought her an innocent bystander in all of this. Guilt shot through her even more efficiently then the bullet had and she gently pushed Cullen off her and sat up. “Samson got away though.”

\--

“Samson?!” Cullen’s eyes bulged, Erica merely nodded.

Just when Cullen thought his night couldn’t get any worse, it turned out his old enemies were coming back to bite him in the ass. And shoot his girlfriend. Maker, Cullen was still so shaken that he refused to let go of her even as he sat back next to her on his bed.

He told the truth; he had had an uneasy feeling the second she’d left the hospital, and had left himself not long after she had. Hearing the noises of a fight in his apartment had made his blood run cold. When he had seen her fighting for her life, Cullen had seen red. He didn’t even know he had attacked until she was in front of him telling him to let him go.

She had been bleeding and Cullen had been caught up in that. Now she was telling him that Samson attacked her in Cullen’s own apartment. He felt faint, and had to ask Erica to repeat what she had been saying.

“He was asking about the rest of the file he stole from Cassandra,” She said again. “You still have it, right?” Cullen nodded. He had the six or seven pages.

“Why, though?” Cullen ran his fingers through his hair. “Why does he want those pages so bad when he has the rest of the file?”

“There must be something incriminating on him in there since he set the fire to frame—“ She cut herself off. “To make it look like an accident.” She amended, not looking him in the eyes.

“He set the fire?” Cullen asked. “How do you know?”

“It’s… the only thing that makes sense.” She shrugged. “Let me see those pictures.”

They moved to the living room. Cullen groaned at the bullet holes in his favorite chair. He’d brought that chair with him from Kirkwall. Erica laughed at his distressed look and kissed his cheek, promising that she would come with him furniture shopping.

They scoured every inch of those crime scene photos.

“What are we even looking for?” Cullen asked after the first hour passed and his eyes began to cross.

“I don’t know,” Erica sighed. “What’s incriminating enough that he would shoot Cassandra and come after the photos?” she asked the universe. Cullen snorted a laugh.

“If this was a crime show, he’d have left his shoe.” Cullen picked up one of the photos again. “Or his hat…” He leaned forward and pointed at the photo. “… Or his friggin badge,” he said in disbelief. Erica’s mouth fell open when she saw the tiny shield-shaped metal object tucked under one of the sofas.

“Is that what it is?” she asked, squinting at the image.

“It makes just about as much sense as the rest of this.” Cullen barked a laugh.

“They’d have this in evidence, right?” Erica asked excitedly.

“I don’t remember it being catalogued,” Cullen said, and Erica’s face fell. Cullen stood from his couch and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Captain Aveline, tell her what’s happening.”

“Is that wise?” Erica stood with him, concern on her face. “Will she believe you?” Cullen nearly laughed again.

“Dispute that little bit of evidence,” he said punching numbers into his phone. “This isn’t a bad cop show. Aveline is a reasonable woman.” He put his phone to his ear, and then added. “And she’s friends with Varric; if anyone will listen to this crazy a story, it’s her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuq it. its technically tomorrow. here you go. its a little longer but only because its finals week and its gonna be a while before i get anything new out. please comment, i wanna know what you guys think.  
> oh and shout out to my brother for talking me through the gun decision there. most guns now-a-days have 16 plus rounds in them and its not logical to jump around an apartment that small for this idiot to fire 16 rounds. according to the brother, a 9mm, hollowpoint 32 grain sub-nosed revolver would be small enough and quiet enough for what Samson had planned here.


	11. Captain Aveline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica does something stupid

Cullen swore loudly as he pounded his hands on Aveline’s desk. She raised one eyebrow, and that was all it took for Cullen to back down. She was a formidable woman any day, but today she was absolutely thunderous as Cullen and Erica told her about Samson’s treachery.

“What do you mean we can’t go after him?” Cullen demanded in a slightly less frantic tone of voice.

“I mean,” Aveline said very calmly, “that even if I believe you, we don’t have any evidence connecting Samson to the fire _or_ to Cory.” She steepled her fingers and leaned her elbows on her desk. “Maker take him, I knew there was something fishy about what happened at Kirkwall.” the captain muttered.

Erica was curled into a ball in one of the chairs facing Aveline’s desk. Hugging her legs to her chest, she hardly noticed the warm sunlight spilling through the windows to dance on the mangled metal object on Aveline’s desk. They had found the badge in evidence, but it was too deformed to even be identified as a shield anymore. Another dead end. Erica could still be blamed for the fire.

She hadn’t meant to let slip the detail about Samson’s connection to Cory when she had begun telling the story to Aveline. Aveline and Cullen both had been shaken by the news that his corruption had gone that far. Although Cullen’s surprise had turned into hot outrage, while Aveline’s had turned to cold fury.

“He was in my apartment,” Cullen said through gritted teeth. “He attacked my—he attacked Erica. Shot at her. In _my_ apartment.”

“Which makes him a son of a bitch,” Aveline replied. “And the DNA on the knives that you stabbed in him is definitely enough to arrest him. Nice job by the way.” Aveline nodded to Erica who tried for a smile. She wasn’t sure if Aveline knew about her past, she was friends with Varric but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t let something slip in front of Cullen if she _did_ know.

“He won’t stick around though,” Erica said. “You should probably still send some people over to his place to see if he’s left a trail…” she trailed off as Aveline raised that single eyebrow again. “And you don’t need me to tell you how to do your job.”

“This is hardly my first rodeo,” Aveline said, but her eyes were smiling. “We sent uniforms to his house and put out an APB on Samson, but all of that will be for nothing if we don’t have solid evidence connecting him to Cory.”

“Who cares about Cory?” Cullen asked, irritated.

“I do,” Erica said fiercely and Cullen looked at her, startled. “H-he’s a bad man who deserves to be in prison.” She stuttered lamely.

“And if we don’t get something on him very soon, he’s not going to _stay_ in prison,” Aveline said. Erica’s blood turned to ice.

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked. “I thought we got him with a corroborating witness or something.” He continued and Erica stopped breathing. Did he know who that witness was? When did he read Cory’s files? Her heart started again when she saw the perplexed look on Cullen’s face.

“We couldn’t get any of the murder charges to stick,” Aveline glared at the middle distance, punching holes in Cory in her mind’s eye. “Eight years later, and it looks like he’s going to get out on ‘good behavior’.” She said the words like they actually tasted bad coming out of her mouth.

That explained why Samson had been sent after Erica. She had given key evidence during Cory’s trial. She was most of the reason they had been able to lock him away at all. If he was getting out, it made sense that he’d want to take care of the person who’d betrayed him.

Cullen and Aveline began discussing the details of the manhunt when Erica’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw the time. 7:31, she had been awake for roughly 12 hours. She rubbed her eyes, completely disregarding her makeup. It had been a long night and was turning into a long day.

Any traces of sleepiness evaporated when she read the text.

_Unknown Number_ : Snitches get stiches [ _1 image attachment_ ]

Attached was a picture of Cassandra in her hospital bed, Varric asleep in the chair at her side. Erica clutched the phone and tried not to scream. Another text from the same number.

_Unknown Number_ : You know what evidence they have on me.

Samson, of course. How had he gotten her number? Forget that, how had he gotten in Cassandra’s hospital room? Another text.

_Unknown Number_ : Bring it to Cory’s old warehouse and I wont finish off your roommate right now. Ill even spare the munchkin here.

Erica’s eyes pricked with tears. It was a trap. She remembered the warehouse Samson was talking about. If she went there, he would kill her and get out of town. But it was her fault Cassandra and Varric were in danger, she wouldn’t run and hide while this coward killed people she loved. She sent him a single word.

_Ok_

\--

“What about his car, can we track it?” Cullen asked, Aveline shook her head.

“He didn’t have his own, he drove a squad car and it’s in the lot,” Aveline explained. Cullen laughed derisively.

“Samson is a bastard and a moron, but he’s hardly dumb enough to try and make a getaway in a cop car.” Cullen shook his head. Erica yawned and stretched catching Cullen’s attention.

“I’m going to get a cup of coffee,” she stood as she spoke and stepped toward Cullen who instinctively brought his hand to the small of her back. “Do you want anything?” She leaned up for a kiss which he gladly reciprocated. He was surprised however when she hooked an arm around his neck to deepen the kiss.

“Uh,” Cullen stuttered when they finally came up for air. “No I’m good.” He gave her a goofy grin and watched her walk out of the room. He immediately stopped smiling when he turned back to Aveline who had a smug look on her face.

“Varric has nothing but good things to say about her,” Aveline said mildly. “I’m very happy for you.” Cullen blushed and stuttered for several minutes, which she mercifully ignored until there was a knock on the door. Krem opened the door and poked his head in… which he really shouldn’t have, because he was one of the officers that the station had assigned to watch Cassandra’s hospital room.

“You wanted to see me chief?” Krem asked.

“No,” Aveline’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why aren’t you watching the hospital?”

“A blue came around and relieved me, said you requested me. Said he was to take over.” Krem looked just as confused. Cullen’s spine began to tingle, he had a bad feeling about this.

“Which officer?” Aveline asked.

“Uh, Samson I think?” Krem said and Cullen nearly fell over.

“How long ago was this?” Aveline stood from behind her desk.

“A couple of hours ago,” Krem looked from Cullen to Aveline and back again. “What’s this about?”

“I’m going to the hospital,” Cullen said already half way out the door.

“Wait Cullen,” Aveline came around her desk.

“Waiting might get one of our own killed,” Cullen shot back over his shoulder, brushing past a still confused Krem. Cassandra was in danger, possibly Varric too, and it was all his fault. He knew Samson was dirty, he should have done something years ago. He was going to do something now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY IM BACK! and we're winding down to a close. questions, comments, glowing words of praise are welcome and encouraged.


	12. The Secret Is Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica confronts Samson, ALONE. Here we go.

Erica arrived at the old warehouse and was flooded by old memories, none of them pleasant. It was even more decrepit then she remembered, probably due to years of disuse. Five years will do wonders for your interior design, apparently. She remembered a time when Cory had held court in the upper office while various illegal things were shipped in and out of the warehouse below. There was dust on the floor an inch thick, and a trail of footprints leading into the dark.

Erica took a deep breath and tiptoed into the warehouse, following the footprints. She had a pretty good idea where they were leading. Clenching her old dagger, in her right hand, she slunk across the floor. It felt… strange to be holding one of her old weapons again. Erica normally didn’t fight people. That fight with Samson in Cullen’s apartment had been one of the only real fights she’d ever been in.

If things went well there would be more than blood on her knife. And if things went poorly, she wouldn’t live long enough to use it.

A shot rang out and Erica dove behind a crate. The emptiness and the largeness of the warehouse made the shot seem like it could have come from anywhere. Frantically, she tried to control her breathing and hammering heartbeat.

“You’re a bad girl, Erica!” Samson’s voice echoed the gun shot. “That’s a pretty wicked knife you’ve got there. I don’t think that’s the evidence the cops have on me?”

“I’m not giving you a damn thing, shrimp dick!” Erica yelled, adjusting her grip on Steal. “Why did Cory send you to frame me?” The faded label on the crate caught her eye. ‘Blue Lemon’, that sure brought back memories.

“You have a very high opinion of yourself,” Samson’s voice echoed around the warehouse. “Cory has more important fish to fry.”

Erica ran, crouched over and landed behind another box just as another shot rang out. _Maker,_ she thought, _I hope he still has horrible taste in guns_.

“So you just decided arson was your true calling?” Erica asked the darkness.

“Come now, Erica,” Samson sneered. Erica stood and whipped the throwing dagger in the direction she thought his voice was coming from. She was already diving behind another crate before the next shot came. “You know how it is when you upset the higher-ups, to get back on their good side they expect you to show some initiative.”

“And getting caught by the police, that’s your big plan to smooth things over with Cory’s people?” Erica drew another knife from its sheath; she only had three left, they would have to count.

“I don’t need a lecture from a snitch,” Samson snarled.

“How’s your shoulder doing?” Erica smirked.

“It hurts like a bitch,” Samson said conversationally. “It’ll hurt a lot less once I’ve put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours.”

“I always knew you were the type to hold grudges,” a new voice called out in the darkness and Erica’s pounding heart nearly stopped dead.

“I knew I should have told this bitch to come alone,” Samson growled. Erica could have kicked herself. She had made a unilateral decision to keep Cullen away because she didn’t want him to get hurt, even though he was the one with a gun. Now they were both going to get killed in a warehouse.

“This doesn’t have to get ugly, Samson,” Cullen voice sounded strong and reassuring and Erica wanted to cry. How had he found her? He was going to get himself killed and it was all her fault because she hadn’t wanted him to know that she was a felon.

“This is already ugly, Cullen.” Samson’s voice sounded eerily calm, and in another minute Erica knew why. “Do you think that you’re the brave knight here to save the poor damsel in distress?”

Erica threw the knife in a desperate attempt to shut him up. It whirled away and stuck with a thunk in some unseen crate. The pile of crates next to her head exploded as two mores shots hit them. She ducked and rolled away.

“Brave, brave Sir Cullen,” Samson said in a sing song voice. “She’s not a damsel, you simpleton, she’s a monster just like me.”

Pulling the second to last knife from its sheath, Erica peered around the edge of her crate. Suddenly a shadow loomed in front of her. She nearly stabbed Cullen in the abdomen before she recognized him. She nearly did cry then as Cullen pulled her close to him with one arm. He looked grim.

“Did she tell you about the time she spent upstate?” Samson asked. “Three years is a light sentence for murder, but with good behavior and overcrowding…” He trailed off, his point made. Cullen glanced down at Erica. For just a tenth of a second she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“It was an accident,” Erica said in a harsh whisper but Cullen covered her mouth with his hand. He was still following Samson’s movements.

“She didn’t tell you about the fires she used to set, did she, Cullen?” Samson’s horrible oily voice continued. “She didn’t tell you she used to be a thief working for Cory, now, did she?”

Erica wanted to scream. She wanted to stab Samson in his nasty throat. This was all going terribly wrong. Cullen shouldn’t have learned about this from Samson in a dark warehouse while they were fighting for their lives. She had taken too long and now she was going to lose him before she lost her life.

“Don’t worry, old partner,” Samson’s voice was closer. “I’m going to shoot her in the head to get in good with the old man, so you won’t have to go through the trouble of—“ The rest of Samson’s sentence was lost in the gunshot.

Cullen stood with his arms outstretched before him, gun still pointed at Samson’s chest. Samson himself let out a little gurgling noise and keeled over backwards, the red stain of his blood spreading across his shirt. Erica scrambled to her feet. Cullen looked at her with a look that stopped her in her tracks. His eyes pleaded, begged her to tell him Samson was the lying son of a bitch he knew he was.

“He was only mostly lying,” Erica said wretchedly. “When I was young and stupid I stole for Cory Pheus, I stole things from people and set fires to cover it up.” And then it all came out in a rush. “I was one of several minors working for Cory at the time. But I was stupid and set a fire that got two people killed.” The longer she talked the faster her words fell from her lips. “Cassandra was the arresting officer and for some reason she saw me as the scared kid I was and helped me cut a deal to put Cory away. I went to prison for five years, but with good behavior and over-crowding I was out in three.” She knit her hands together and gave an ironic laugh. “Funny, because that’s the exact reason Cory is going to get out…”

Then it was all out in the open and she just felt… bare. Raw, like she had just stepped out of her skin and had no protection for Cullen’s gaze. He looked so hurt.

Cullen didn’t say anything. He didn’t do anything, he just stood there, a few feet from the body of a man he had just killed to protect her. After two excruciating minutes of quiet he turned away from her with a sigh.

“I should call this in,” he said in a flat voice that made Erica’s insides hurt. She just nodded in response, she was all out of words.

\-- 

In the space of a few hours, the abandoned warehouse went from abandoned to full of flashing lights and police cars. Aveline herself had shown up, looking grim and important.

Cullen had arrived at the hospital to find an awake and alert Cassandra, perfectly fine but furious. Cullen had been sparse on the details but Cassandra had asked where Erica was and that was when Cullen realized she hadn’t been in the break room like he’d thought she had gone for the coffee.

That was okay, maybe she had gone out for coffee. The station machine made a sludge that kept you awake, you didn’t really drink it for taste. Something about the way Cassandra and Varric looked at each other made him suspicious but that was when Aveline had called.

The other officer who had been stationed in front of Cassandra’s room had a squad car with him apparently and its GPS was not where it was supposed to be. Cullen had gotten coordinates and had raced off without a second thought.[  
](https://d.docs.live.net/1e3d3aa727894245/Documents/Fanfic%20apparently/Lame%20Apartment%20AU/11and%20the%20secret%20is%20out.docx#_msocom_4)

He watched now as Erica gave her statement to Krem. She looked shaken, and Cullen wanted nothing more than to go over there and wrap her in his arms. He wanted to hold her until all the bad things went away.

He stayed where he was.

She hadn’t technically lied to him. Cullen knew that was pedantic; she had willingly withheld information from him. Why? Was it because he was a cop? The notion hurt him more than he thought possible. Cullen had been completely honest with Erica and she didn’t trust him because he was a cop. Cassandra was a cop. Hell, Cassandra was the cop that had put Erica away.

A horrible thought struck Cullen. Cassandra had known. Had she known Erica was keeping the truth from Cullen? She had to have. Aveline could sense his unease, even if she didn’t know the cause.

“There will be an investigation,” Aveline told him. “But for now, I think its best if you head on home.” Cullen nodded absently. He had a few more questions that needed answers to before he went home. He needed a ride to the hospital.o tell us why Cullen knew where to go after Erica.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, ive been having computer troubles. (and a new job so yay!)


	13. Cassandra Speaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen pays a visit to Cassandra. She is the only one with any sense in this whole story. Things start to look up.

The hospital was bright and busy by the time Cullen arrived in the recovery wing. He had picked up a bouquet of daisies on his way up; it seemed like the thing to do. He passed the officer on duty, nodded before he pushed open the door to Cassandra’s room. The curtains were drawn back, the early morning sun streamed in through the windows. Varric looked up from the book in his lap as Cullen closed the door behind him. Cassandra was asleep, but she already looked better than she had hours before when Cullen had been here last.

“I take it from the look on your face it’s over?” Varric asked, setting his book on the bedside table. He looked tired, the lines on his face more pronounced in the light. Cullen just stared at him, he was sure he looked just as bad as Varric did, but for other reasons. Varric sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Cullen asked flatly. Varric looked back at him from behind his hand, with a look that Cullen could only describe as shamefaced. With an exhausted groan, Cullen sank into a chair by the window. He leaned his head back with a thunk against the wall.

“I’m friends with a colorful array of people, Curly,” Varric said leaning forward in his chair. “More than a few of them convicted felons.”

“And you kept that from me?” Cullen asked the ceiling.

“Not my place to tell,” Varric said. Cullen didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Erica was a grown woman, and Varric was hardly her father.

They sat in silence for a long time. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, but it was a companionable silence. Cullen mulled over the same uncomfortable thoughts over, and over again.

“Cullen,” Cassandra’s voice pierced through his destructive thoughts. She was looking at him with the same look on her face that Varric had had. Cullen groaned and closed his eyes again.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Varric said, standing and placing a kiss on Cassandra’s forehead. She smiled up at him, and her eyes followed him as he left the room, lighting on Cullen when the door closed. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Cullen was so tired of silence.

“So Erica was being framed for the fires,” Cullen said eventually. It was a statement, not a question. Cassandra didn’t say anything at first, her face its usual stoic mask. “I shot Samson,” he continued when she continued to stare at him.

“He was a son of a bitch,” Cassandra said. “But that’s not what you’re upset about.”

Cullen scoffed; he didn’t blink twice at shooting a man, but the thought that his girlfriend had been lying to him sent him into a tailspin.

“Erica told me everything…” Cullen said but then reconsidered. “At least I think she told me everything, she was keeping so many things from me—“

“Bullshit,” Cassandra cut him off. “You know her better than that.”

“Do I?!” Cullen burst out. “I trusted her, I thought she trusted me. Now I find out she thinks of me as a cop before she thinks of me as a man.” He stood abruptly and paced the small room.

"Cullen, do you know Erica's favorite color?" Cassandra asked sharply.

 

"Green," Cullen replied instantly, rubbing his jaw absently.

 

"Childhood nickname?" She asked.

 

"Beaver, because of her overbite." Cullen said.

 

"Do you know her birthday?" Cassandra asked.

 

"November 23," Cullen answered, again without thinking.

 

"Did she confide in you her favorite color, childhood nickname, or birthday?" Cassandra asked like she was on one side of an interrogation table.

 

"Well, yes, but I could figure out her favorite color because --" Cullen started but Cassandra cut him off.

 

"I was her roommate for two years before she told me her favorite color," Cassandra stated. "I had to look at her police record to learn her birthday. And you don't even want to know what I had to do to get her to tell me her childhood nickname."

 

"What?" Cullen said dumbly. Cassandra sighed.

 

"Did she tell you how young she was when she worked for Cory?" Cassandra continued the interrogation. "Nineteen years old, just kicked out of the foster care system."

 

"Why are you telling me this?" Cullen asked. He'd be lying if he said that didn't make his heart ache. When he thought about her alone and at the mercy of men like Cory made him a little sick. Which only made him more angry and hurt that he was only learning this now, and from Cassandra and not Erica herself.

 

"I'm trying to give you a picture of the life Erica has led," Cassandra said. "By nature, she is a very private person, but she confided in you what she thought she could."

 

"Just not who she was three years ago," Cullen cut in rather sulkily.

 

"Who were you three years ago, Cullen?" Cassandra barked and Cullen flinched. It was true, he had been a thug with a badge, worse than Samson in Cullen's mind. They were not years he looked on with fondness.

 

"I never hid my past from anyone," Cullen said quietly and Cassandra's face softened infinitesimally.

 

"You are not wrong, though," Cassandra said. "She was wrong to keep that from you, but you understand that it wasn't you she was hiding from."

 

"Do I?" Cullen laughed humorlessly. "I appear to be the only one within a hundred miles that didn't know."

 

"You're the only new friend she's made in several years, Cullen," Cassandra said flatly. "And she's never been what I would call 'clever' around attractive gentlemen." Cassandra rolled her eyes when Cullen instinctively rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“What am I supposed to do?" Cullen asked, a little helplessly.

"I'm not your priest, Cullen." Cassandra pursed her lips. "I'm your friend, and I won't tell you what to do."

Cullen was touched by her words. Cassandra was tough as nails. She would never tell him anything she didn't believe. It didn't ease his aching heart though.

"You couldn't give me a hint?" Cullen smiled sheepishly. He had been joking, but Cassandra spoke anyway.

"Don't screw this up," Cassandra said bluntly. "You've both got some skeletons in your closet, but you'd have to be an idiot to throw this away."

It was just like Cassandra to be as blunt as a punch to the face. It was also just like Cassandra to be completely right. Cullen didn't think he could just blithely ignore how Erica had lied to him; but he decided he should talk to her. He'd wanted to talk to her all day, he had just been stewing in his own head.

He stood, determination etched on his features. Cassandra looked annoyingly pleased with herself. Passing Varric as he entered the room, Cullen only just managed to stop himself from sprinting down the hall.

Erica was skittish, he hoped he wasn't too late.

\--

Varric shut the door behind the rapidly retreating police officer. He smiled wryly at Cassandra, grinning and was trying not to show it. He sat on the bed next to her, ignoring the chair beside the bed, and passed her the coffee he had gone to get.

"Good talk?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. Cassandra sipped her coffee and averted her gaze.

"I only told him the truth," she said, not a little smugly.

"Uh huh." Varric held Cassandra's hand in his own, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "When are you gonna stop meddling in that girl's life?" He teased lightly.

"I do not meddle." Cassandra pulled a sour face and Varric laughed. Quickly, he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"You do," Varric insisted. "You do and I love it." He grinned and went to kiss her forehead again, but her hand came up to fist in the material of his shirt and she pulled him down to a real kiss. Varric took comfort in her tight grip. It meant that she was there, she was alive. He refused to think more on the subject and focused on kissing his very alive girlfriend.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS FINALLY HERE. ITS POSTED. IM SORRY ITS BEEN FOUR THOUSAND YEARS. IM GOING TO CRAWL BACK UNDER THE ROCK FROM WHENCE I CAME. maybe write the new chapter, maybe a miracle will occur and that will happen sometime this year


	14. Cole Helps Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen works out, yum. Cole makes another appearance.

The next two weeks were a blur.

It turned out that Cory Pheus had a secret stash of paperwork in the warehouse Samson and Cullen had their little showdown in. Samson had gone and dug them up,  leaving them in an upstairs office while he went down the stairs to deal with Erica. The only thing he hadn't done was put a bow on it for the cops.

Cullen technically wasn't supposed to take part in the investigation, until his own investigation was completed. He had just shot a cop. As skeezy and despicable Samson was, he had been a cop, and it is generally frowned upon to shoot ones colleges.

Krem told Cullen that the files Samson had recovered, had so much dirt on Cory's illegal activities, that it made Erica's testimony look like a child's tattling. Cory was not getting out in a month or two. Cory wasn't getting out for several lifetimes in fact.

All of this was cold comfort when it turned out that Cullen couldn't seem to find Erica anywhere. Whenever Cullen stopped by her apartment, she either wasn't home, or refused to open the door. And even though he felt like a stalker, he stopped by the community center where she worked once.

Okay, more than once. More like four times, but it’s the fourth that mattered.

Cullen had decided that if he was visiting a gym, he should at least make good use of the weights. He was doing just that when a boy approached him.

"Do you need help?" The boy asked in a soft voice. Cullen looked him up and down. He wasn't dressed for the gym, not really. He was wearing a hoodie and long pants. He certainly didn't look like he worked for the gym. But Cullen had the inexplicable urge to accept the boy's offer.

"I could use a spotter," Cullen said, sliding weights onto the bar. The boy nodded and moved to stand at the head of the bench. "My name is Cullen," he grunted, lifting the barbells above his head.

"I know," the boy said, staring down at him with ice-blue eyes.

"Do you have a name?" Cullen asked, breathing evenly.

"Cole." Cole scratched a pimple on the side of his face. He had lots of those; pimples, not faces.

A few more reps of silence and then Cole spoke up again.

"You're hurting," he said softly. Cullen paused, raising one eyebrow quizzically at the boy.

"I've got a few more minutes in me." Cullen was a little offended the boy thought he was tiring out so quickly. Cole shook his head.

"You hurt like the bullet hole. The one that has almost healed over but serves as an ugly reminder of the past that caught up with her," Cole intoned, like he was reading a newspaper.

Cullen nearly crushed himself under the weight of the barbell he was suddenly unable to support. Cole helped Cullen place the death trap back where it belonged and Cullen sat up to look at the skinny boy. He was blinking at Cullen in a way that reminded him of a white cat.

"You..." Cullen trailed off, he didn't know to say.

"Your pain fits together," Cole frowned a confused frown. "The same way you fit together." The boy laced his fingers together and held them towards Cullen, as off he was offering him something.

"Erica?" Cullen finally managed to choke out a word. Cole looked at his fingers, considering.

"It’s like a puzzle," Cole examined his fingers in front of his face. "How puzzling."

Cullen gripped the lad's shoulder, gently, but firmly, just to get his attention.

"Cole, do you know where Erica is?" Cullen asked. Cole dropped his hands and tilted his head, studying Cullen's face.

"She hid too well," Cole said frustratingly. Cullen was doing his level best not to lose his temper. Obviously the boy wanted to help, he was just a little odd and didn't know how.

"I'd like to... Finish the puzzle," Cullen said after a pause. Maybe if he reused the metaphors, he'd get a batter response from Cole. It seemed to work as Cole's face lit up.

"Two hurts make a right," Cole nodded. He picked at a pimple on the side of his nose. Cullen nearly shook him when it looked like he wasn't going to continue. But then Cole was suddenly around his other side, crouching to dig in Cullen's bag. Before he could protest, the boy stood up again, holding Cullen's phone.

"What are--" Cullen started but Cole had already finished whatever he had been doing and handed Cullen his phone with a small smile.

"I hope I helped," he said, still smiling that soft smile. Cullen couldn't help but smile back. A warm feeling was building in his chest; hope.

"I hope so too," Cullen gripped Cole's shoulder again, this time a friendly gesture. "Thank you, Cole."

\--

Erica was good at two things; breaking into places and hiding. And lying to the person she loved, but that was more of a talent than a skill. Practice apparently made perfect.

Right now, Erica was hiding in the very last place anyone would ever think to look for her; a playground, sitting on one of the wrought iron benches on the edge of the park. Children skirted around the brightly colored metal structures, screaming like kids do. Erica tried to remember if she had ever been to a park like this before. She tried not to wallow in it, but it was something to think about when she was trying not to think about the present.

She had totally been avoiding Cullen. Frankly, she was avoiding all of her friends. Cassandra was still in the hospital, Varric never leaving her side. Isabella wasn't due back from Orlais for another few weeks, and Anders was working. He was always working. Hawke had tried to contact her, calling repeatedly until Erica was force to answer and offer a brief explanation.

As for the other cop in her life, Aveline had texted her updates on the case. Short, concise texts to apprise her of what was happening. How Cory wasn't getting out any time soon, how Cullen wasn't going to lose his job. Aveline had flat-out faked a statement from her in the police report. Erica had nearly cried when she read that text. She didn't deserve the amazing people in her life.

All of them seemed determined to stay in her life though, which became apparent when a large hand came to rest on her shoulder. Erica turned to look into the unreadable face of Cullen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean for this to be a filler chapter. i promise, NEXT chapter will have some resolution in it. but hey, at least i got to write for Cole. (i love Cole)

**Author's Note:**

> This was really friggin fun to write. Its also the longest thing ive written so far. It is also also another trash apartment AU. Because i love those too much not to write a thousand of them. I'm not sure if they are in the same apartment building, but that would be fun.  
> (Implied Tethraghast because why not)


End file.
